Cruel and Unusual Punishment
by Bits And Pieces
Summary: While waiting to meet a contact outside of camp, Hogan and Newkirk are caught by the Gestapo. The major who questions them seems to have an unnatural interest in Newkirk. WARNING: Contains adult subject matter; with a fairly graphic scene in chapter two.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This story involves the subject of male rape. I actually began this story back in the spring of 2008, when I wrote chapters two and three. I recently resurrected it when I decided to help someone else with this idea. I've since added to it, and have decided to post it, in case anyone is interested in reading it. If not, I understand completely. I will warn you that chapter two contains a fairly graphic scene, but it is the only chapter that does. I've also decided to post the first three chapters at once, and will add each subsequent chapter as I write them.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Hogan's Heroes characters. No copyright infringement is intended or implied.

* * *

**Chapter 1**

"All right, I want to go over this one more time," Colonel Robert Hogan said as he paced his quarters. "We go out this morning, right after roll call, and head for the rendezvous point near the road leading to Hammelburg. We watch for our contact, who will be driving by at approximately nine a.m. He'll stop and flash his lights three times if the coast is clear, at which point we'll approach the car and get the information from him. According to the message Kinch received, he's got the location to a rocket factory that just went into production... Right, Kinch?"

"Yes, sir," Sergeant James Kinchloe answered from his seat on the lower bunk.

Sergeant Andrew Carter, who was standing in front of the only window in the tiny room, raised his hand and asked, "Uh, Colonel? Are we all going out to meet the contact?"

Hogan stopped pacing and looked at him. "No, Carter, I think two of us can handle this."

Corporal Louis LeBeau jumped up from the chair by the desk and announced, "I volunteer, mon Colonel!"

"Louis, are you daft?" Corporal Peter Newkirk exclaimed from his seat next to Kinch on the bottom bunk.

"But it's such a beautiful day," LeBeau replied, "And I could use some fresh air."

Newkirk's eyebrows shot up. "You really want to go muckin' about out there in broad daylight? That's a great way to get shot, I say!"

"Then we'll have to be careful, won't we, Newkirk?" Hogan said, staring directly at him.

"What, you want _me_ to go, sir? But, Louis 'ere just volunteered!"

"I know, and I appreciate it, LeBeau," Hogan looked over at the Frenchman, "But I want you to stay here and whip up something for Schultz in case he decides to check up on us later. Maybe you can distract him with your strudel."

"Oui, Colonel," LeBeau responded as he sat back down on the chair; clearly disappointed.

"Colonel," Newkirk tried a different tactic, "Isn't there any way to change the time of the meetin'? Say, maybe, to midnight?"

"Look, I don't like these daytime missions anymore than you do," Hogan said, "But this meeting has already been arranged, and the information is important. Besides, we don't have that far to go. In fact, we'll probably be back before LeBeau finishes making that strudel." He smiled at Newkirk.

Newkirk smirked at him. "But then ol' Schultzie won't get any, will he?"

"I think he'll live," Hogan replied, chuckling. "Okay, Newkirk, after roll call, we'll take off."

Newkirk sighed. "Yes, sir."

* * * * * * * *

"Blimey, it's nine fifteen… Where the bloody 'ell is he?" Newkirk asked nervously from his position next to Hogan. They'd made it to the rendezvous point without incident, and had been crouching down behind some bushes near the road for the past half hour.

"I don't know, Newkirk… Let's give him a few more minutes," Hogan answered; his nerves also on edge. One more minute passed, then two, and just as he was about to tell his corporal that they were leaving, the sound of a car approaching reached his ears.

The two men watched as the car came into view, then sped past them; never even attempting to slow down. Hogan looked at Newkirk and said quietly, "I think we better get out of here."

Suddenly they heard the sound of more cars approaching, and they knew they were in trouble. Hogan grabbed Newkirk's arm and started slinking backwards, while maintaining a crouched position.

Newkirk followed, mimicking Hogan's posture, hoping they could evade whatever trouble was barreling down on them, when he heard the unmistakable sound of a gun's safety being clicked off behind them, and a voice yelling quite clearly, "Stop right there! Stand up, now!"

Hogan and Newkirk stopped their attempt at retreating, and stood up slowly. They raised their hands and turned around, and found themselves face-to-face with two Gestapo guards.

"Well, what do we have here?" one of the guards said, directing his question to the other guard, as well as the two men standing in front of him, "Two escaping prisoners, perhaps?" Then he scowled at Hogan and Newkirk and shouted, "Or maybe you are spies!"

Hogan's eyes widened with surprise. "Spies? Us?" He glanced at Newkirk and back to the guard. "Why, we wouldn't know the first thing about being spies! We were just trying to hitch a ride out of Germany, that's all."

The guard's eyes narrowed. "We'll see about that. Now, turn around, both of you, and walk down to the road… Schnell!"

Hogan and Newkirk turned around, glancing at each other briefly, their eyes reflecting each other's fear. As they started to walk towards the road, neither of them were surprised to feel a shove from behind.

"I said, schnell!" The guard barked at them.

They stole another glance at each other, Newkirk's eyes questioning; _should we make a break for it?_

Hogan answered with a look of his own; _get ready… _

Newkirk tensed, waiting for Hogan's signal, when a car seemed to appear out of nowhere. It pulled up and stopped directly in front of them on the road, and two more Gestapo guards emerged; guns at the ready.

The guards behind them once again gave them a shove. "Go on, get in the car," the guard who had been doing all the talking ordered, steering them toward the back seat.

One of the guards by the car opened the back door, keeping his gun pointed at Hogan and Newkirk. He held the door open while they slid into the back seat. The 'talkative' guard slid in next to them, while the other three piled into the front. As the car drove away, Hogan and Newkirk again glanced at each other, both of them thinking the same thing; _we're in big trouble, now! _

* * * * * * * *

The drive to their destination didn't take long; about fifteen minutes or so. The entire trip was spent in silence; even the guards weren't talking to each other. Hogan and Newkirk were lost in their own thoughts; both of them trying to keep their fear at bay, both of them knowing they couldn't. At last they pulled up to an old, two-story brick building. The guards in the front seat got out first; then allowed the back seat passengers to exit, keeping their guns trained on Hogan and Newkirk. The guards escorted their two prisoners into the building, down a flight of stairs, along a short hallway lined with cells, and stopped in front of the last one on the right.

One of the guards had grabbed the keys to the cell when they'd entered, and now he stepped up and unlocked the door.

The guard who seemed to be the only one doing the talking, gave Hogan a push. "Get in there," he snapped, then shoved Newkirk in right behind him. Before he shut the door, he added, "I wouldn't get too comfortable, if I were you. When Major Hoffman returns, he will be very interested in questioning you both."

"Hoffman?" Hogan repeated aloud, looking at the guard questioningly.

"Ja, Hoffman. He is in charge of this district. And you are…?"

"Just passing through," Hogan quipped.

The guard smiled. "You are funny, Colonel Hogan. But I'm afraid your sense of humor will not be appreciated by Major Hoffman."

"Who's Colonel Hogan? I've never heard of him."

"Come now, don't be modest, Colonel; everyone in the Gestapo has heard of you. Major Hochstetter has been very interested in your activities ever since you became a POW."

"Then why isn't _he_ interrogating me?" Hogan replied with a touch of sarcasm.

"Because he didn't catch you outside of your camp; we did." The guard's gaze then drifted to Newkirk. "Major Hoffman will be very happy that you brought an Englander with you. He likes them the best; although I have no idea why." He grinned at Newkirk, sending a chill through him. Then he left, closing and locking the door behind him.

When he'd gone, Newkirk looked at Hogan, clearly shaken. "What the bloody 'ell did he mean by that?"

"I don't know, Newkirk," Hogan replied, attempting to mask his worry, "Maybe that guard was just trying to scare you. You know how they are."

"Yeah, maybe…" Newkirk walked over to the cot in the room, and sat down with a sigh.

Hogan walked over and sat next to him. "Hey, I'm not gonna let that major do anything to you, you know."

Newkirk turned his head to look at him. "It's not up to you, is it, Colonel? Besides, he'll probably be more interested in questionin' you, and there's not much _I_ can bloody do to stop 'im, either."

Hogan leaned back against the wall and sighed. "Guess we're both just going to have to wait and see what this Major Hoffman wants."

"Well, he can't be any worse than Hochstetter, right, sir?" Newkirk said, trying to sound hopeful.

"Right," Hogan responded, forcing himself to smile reassuringly at him. But the look on the corporal's face confirmed his own thought…neither of them believed that for a second.

* * * * * * * *

"They should have been back by now," LeBeau said, tapping his foot nervously. He, Kinch and Carter were sitting at the long table in the common area of the barracks, becoming more and more worried that Hogan and Newkirk hadn't yet returned from the mission.

"Well, maybe the contact was late," Carter replied, "Or maybe they had to hide from a patrol…"

"It's almost noon!" LeBeau cut in, "They wouldn't have waited over two hours for the contact, and you know it! And patrols don't stay in one place that long. Which means only one thing…they must have been caught."

"Now, hang on, Louis," Kinch replied, "I'm sure there's a good reason they're not back yet; it doesn't mean they got caught."

"Oh, really?" LeBeau asked, raising an eyebrow, "Like what?"

"Well, like what Carter said, they could be hiding from a patrol…"

"This long?"

"…Or maybe there's just a lot of guards outside of camp today, out by where the emergency entrance is, and they're waiting for them to leave."

"Or maybe the contact was a girl," Carter piped up.

LeBeau and Kinch stared at him.

Carter crossed his arms. "Well, you know how those two are when it comes to girls; especially Newkirk!"

"Carter, they're not going to stand around in broad daylight, trying to woo a girl, right there on the road leading to Hammelburg!" LeBeau scoffed.

"I have to agree with Louis on that one, Andrew," Kinch said, "The colonel knows better; and even if Newkirk might try something like that, the colonel wouldn't let him. No, it has to be something else."

"But what, mon ami?"

"I don't know, Louis, but I hope we find out soon."

* * * * * * * *

"Blimey, 'ow long 'ave we been sittin' in 'ere?" Newkirk asked, growing tired of waiting, but yet not looking forward to what was in store for them.

Hogan glanced at his watch. "It's three-thirty."

"Three-thirty? That means we've been 'ere for what, six hours?"

"Something like that," Hogan replied. "Don't tell me you're in a hurry to meet Major Hoffman…?"

"No, sir!" Newkirk exclaimed, "I'm just gettin' ruddy tired of sittin' around in this cell. You sure there's no way we can escape, Colonel?"

"I don't see how. I wish there was…"

Just then they heard footsteps, and a key being inserted into the lock. The door swung open, and the guard from earlier entered, followed by one of the guards from the car. "Major Hoffman is ready to see you now," he said with a smirk and turned to leave, motioning for them to follow.

They walked behind the guard as he led them back to the stairs, where they climbed up one flight, emerging onto the main floor. The guard then brought them down a long corridor, and stopped in front of the last room on the left, this time.

The guard glanced behind him, and after flashing them a look of amusement, opened the door.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: WARNING: This chapter contains a graphic scene of a sexual nature.

* * *

**Chapter 2 **

They were brought into a large dank room, devoid of furniture, except for a long raised table, almost waist-high, stretching along one wall. It was roughly the size of a twin bed, and had a thin, ratty mattress thrown haphazardly on top. The wall running perpendicular to it was made of brick, and had two sets of shackles firmly attached to it.

_This doesn't look good, _Hogan thought anxiously, and glanced over at Newkirk, who appeared to be thinking the same thing.

"Stand over there!" The guard yelled, shoving Hogan forward in the direction of the brick wall. He then grabbed Newkirk's arm and pulled him roughly next to where Hogan was now standing.

Just then the door opened and in walked a Gestapo officer. He was a fairly tall man, about Hogan's height, with dark hair and common features. He wouldn't have been considered overly handsome, but he certainly wasn't unattractive. But it was his eyes that caught their attention. They were dark, almost black in appearance, like a doll's eyes, and they had the affect of making anyone looking into them nervous; which came in handy, especially for his line of work.

He looked at Hogan and Newkirk and smiled. "I am Major Hoffman," he stated. Then, looking directly at Hogan, he continued, "And I understand that I have the pleasure of meeting the famous Colonel Hogan."

"Oh, I wouldn't say 'famous'," Hogan answered, trying to downplay the reputation he'd obtained with the Gestapo over the past few years.

Hoffman smiled. "Oh come now, Colonel," he said coolly, "I've read your dossier; it was quite…informative. And Major Hochstetter has told me so much about you; why, I feel like I know you already!"

"He has?" Hogan asked, sounding as innocent as possible. "Funny," he added, "I hardly know the major. I don't know what he's told you, but I'm just the senior POW at Stalag thirteen."

"I'm sure you are," Hoffman replied in a pleasant voice, but his eyes gave him away. "But, for the record, would you mind telling me what you were doing on that road where my men found you?"

Hogan knew where this was going. "Oh, we were just trying to escape," he responded, smiling, "After all; that's what prisoners of war are supposed to do, isn't it?"

"I see," said Hoffman, a cold smile forming on his own face. "And who did you bring with you?" Now he moved to stand in front of Newkirk.

It was Newkirk's turn to look into those black eyes. "Corporal Newkirk, sir," He said nervously.

"Corporal Newkirk." Hoffman echoed, slowly looking Newkirk up and down. He then turned to the guards and pointed at Hogan. "Chain him up," he ordered.

The guards approached Hogan and grabbed his arms, pulling them up forcefully. They shoved his wrists into the shackles and locked them tight.

"And you," the major said, turning back to look at Newkirk; a strange expression on his face, "Take off your shirt."

"Now, wait a minute," Hogan interjected, "You can do what you want with me, but leave my corporal alone!"

_Aha! _Hoffman thought to himself, _so, you are protective of your men; that's something I wanted to know. _He looked at Hogan and said, "Colonel, you're not in charge at the moment, are you?" Then he looked at Newkirk, who was still standing there with a confused expression on his face. "You heard me, Corporal," he snapped, "Take off your shirt!"

Newkirk slowly removed his jacket and pulled his uniform sweater over his head. The last thing to go was his T-shirt, and when he had taken that off, the major seemed satisfied. The room was chilly, so Newkirk wrapped his arms around himself. Then Hoffman told the guards to chain him up, so they raised Newkirk's arms and forced his wrists into the other pair of shackles attached to the wall; to the right of Hogan.

Hogan had a bad feeling about what was happening. He'd already figured out that the major was planning to use Newkirk to get him to talk. _I've got to think of something, _he thought, trying to force an idea to magically appear in his brain. But nothing was coming to him.

When the guards were finished with Newkirk, Hoffman dismissed them. After they had gone, he positioned himself in front of Newkirk. "Now, Colonel," he said, still staring at Newkirk, "What were you doing on that road?"

"We were just escapin' like the colonel said," Newkirk offered.

"I wasn't asking you," the major informed him, "I was asking your Colonel."

"I told you," Hogan answered, as convincingly as possible, "We were trying to escape. Now if you just call Colonel Klink, I'm sure he'll be happy to send someone over to take us back to camp."

Hoffman was still staring at Newkirk. "You know," he began, completely ignoring what Hogan had said, "I like Englanders, and you're a good-looking one at that." He reached up and stroked Newkirk's cheek, running his hand slowly along the Corporal's jaw.

Newkirk's eyes widened with shock. "Blimey, are you comin' on to me?" he asked incredulously. "Why, you're just some kind of bloody German queer…"

The back of Hoffman's hand came flying across Newkirk's face with a loud, "Thwack!"

"Insults will not be tolerated!" The major yelled tersely.

Newkirk's head was spinning, and the left side of his face felt like it was on fire. _Bloody Hell! _Was his only thought as he shook his head, trying to clear it. He opened his eyes, only to see those cold, black eyes staring at him with satisfaction.

"You keep your hands off of him!" Hogan shouted, straining against his chains.

Hoffman finally looked at Hogan. "Do you know why my men were out on that road today? They were pursuing a spy, who was planning to leak important information to the Allies. Imagine their surprise to find you and your Corporal out there, near that very same road. Now I will ask you again, Colonel," he said in a sickeningly sweet voice, "What were you doing on that road?"

Hogan glared at Hoffman, knowing he couldn't tell him the real reason they had been out there. He looked at Newkirk and saw the angry red welt that was forming on his face. Newkirk looked back, pleading with his eyes for Hogan not to say anything; that he could handle whatever the major did to him. Hogan clenched his jaw for a second or two, then stated in a more controlled voice, "We were trying to escape…that's all."

"Very well, Colonel," Hoffman replied in that same eerie voice. "It appears that you like to do things the hard way." He turned his attention back to Newkirk. "Not that I mind," he continued, staring directly into Newkirk's eyes, "I really do like your Corporal here. In fact, I think I'd like to get to know him much better." He moved closer, put his hand on the side of Newkirk's neck, and began stroking Newkirk's cheek with his thumb. Newkirk pulled his head back until it was up against the brick wall, but the hand stayed.

Hogan was becoming enraged; he couldn't stand what Hoffman was doing to Newkirk, but he was helpless to intervene. _I've got to make him stop, _he thought to himself, _but how?_

"I tell you what," Hoffman said, looking over at Hogan briefly. "If you decide to tell me what you were really doing on that road, I'll be more than happy to let the both of you go. Otherwise, your Englishman here is mine, and you will keep quiet, or he will suffer for it." To emphasize his point, he reached up with his other hand and ran it lightly over the large bruise on Newkirk's left cheek. He then turned his attention back to Newkirk.

"As for you," Hoffman purred seductively, his dark eyes boring deep into Newkirk's green ones, "You are going to cooperate, or I will put a bullet through your Colonel's head, understand? A simple 'Yes, sir' will suffice."

Newkirk's eyes opened wide; he knew the major would do it! He opened his mouth to answer, but nothing came out. At last he found his voice and croaked out, "Yes, sir."

"Good!" Hoffman exclaimed. "And from now on, those are the only two words that I want to hear from you; got it?"

"Yes, sir," Newkirk replied softly. _The major's mad! _He thought to himself, fearful of what Hoffman had planned for him. He glanced over at Hogan, whose face was filled with fury.

"He can't help you," Hoffman said, bringing Newkirk's attention back to him, "Unless you have something to tell me, Colonel? No? I didn't think so." He gazed at Newkirk for a moment; then slid one hand behind Newkirk's head, placed his other hand on the side of Newkirk's neck, and planted his lips on the corporal's, while bringing his body tight up against him. He forced his tongue into Newkirk's mouth, kissing him harder.

Newkirk's eyes went wide, and then he shut them tight, trying to block out what the major was doing to him. His back was flat up against the cold brick wall, and the rough surface was digging into his skin. After a few moments Major Hoffman broke away from his mouth, and leaned back to look at him.

"Open your eyes!" snapped the major.

Newkirk complied, and Hoffman smiled; the most evil smile he had ever seen, sending a shudder through him.

"That's better," Hoffman said in a more soothing voice. "I wouldn't want you to miss anything. And that goes for you, too, Colonel Hogan." He looked at Hogan and was delighted to see how furious he was.

Hogan glared angrily back, and couldn't contain himself any longer. "I'm warning you; get your filthy hands off of him!" he yelled at the major, seething with rage.

Hoffman just smiled and shook his head. "Now, Colonel," he admonished him, "I told you what would happen if you didn't keep quiet, didn't I? You only have yourself to blame for this." He raised his hand and swung it full force across Newkirk's face, the same side he had struck earlier. This time the major's hand hit lower, catching the side of Newkirk's mouth and cutting his lip.

Newkirk was seeing stars. He could taste blood in his mouth, and tried to spit it out. Just then the major's hand grabbed his head and pushed it back up against the wall, holding it there firmly. Hoffman leaned in and planted his mouth on Newkirk's neck, sucking on a spot just below his ear. Newkirk blinked, trying to make his eyes focus, when a sharp pain emanated from his neck, and he realized that the major was biting him! A groan escaped his lips, and he involuntarily pulled against the chains so hard that the metal dug into his wrists. After about a minute the major finally stopped, and when he brought his head back, his mouth was smeared with blood.

"Delicious!" Hoffman exclaimed, "I've always been partial to English blood, you know." He took a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped his face. "And now I think it's time to get down to business, don't you?"

Hogan was beside himself; he had experienced anger before, many times, but not the pure rage and fury that were consuming him now. He watched in horror what Hoffman was doing to Newkirk, feeling responsible for causing the major's latest attack with his outburst. _This is all my fault! _he told himself. _Damn it, I've got to do something! _ But what could he do, other than keep his mouth shut; at least for now. _Oh Newkirk_, he mentally cried out, _I'm so sorry!_

Hoffman leaned in once again and kissed Newkirk, hard, pressing his body up against him. Newkirk could taste his own blood in the major's mouth, and it made his stomach turn. He tried to make his mind a blank; shutting out the present, mentally escaping the hell he was in. But just then he felt something pressing against his abdomen, and he knew his hell was only beginning.

Hogan couldn't bear to watch, but he also couldn't quite look away. He saw how the major was kissing Newkirk, jamming him into the wall with his body, saw Newkirk's empty stare, and he became even more enraged. But he was powerless to help, so he leaned his head back against the wall, staring into space. _What do I do? _He asked himself yet again, but there was no answer.

Newkirk sensed a change coming over the major. Hoffman was getting more insistent; kissing him deeper, running his hand over his bare chest, becoming harder against him. He felt the major slide his hand slowly down to his stomach, then inch his fingers lower until they were just underneath the waist of his pants. Suddenly Hoffman broke away from his mouth and looked at him; his eyes burning with lust.

"You're all mine now," Hoffman said quietly, in a deep husky voice. He reached into his pockets and produced a key and a set of handcuffs. "I'm going to unlock you," he continued in that same throaty voice, "But if you try anything, I'll kill you and your Colonel, understand?"

"Yes sir," Newkirk responded, barely above a whisper.

Hoffman unlocked the shackles with the key, and Newkirk brought his arms down slowly. His wrists were cut and bruised from pulling them against the chains. The Major grabbed his hands, slapped the handcuffs on him, and dragged him over to the makeshift bed. He moved in close and, reaching down, unbuttoned Newkirk's pants, then started to turn him so he was facing the bed.

Understanding washed over Newkirk, and he gasped in fear. "No, please!" He stammered, turning away and backing up a step.

"Would you like me to do this to your Colonel instead?" Hoffman replied in his all-too-familiar sickeningly sweet voice.

Newkirk's eyes widened, horrified at the thought of watching this monster put his hands on Colonel Hogan. "No, you can't!" he exclaimed, his voice trembling.

"Then do as I say!" The major snapped at him, grabbing Newkirk's arm and thrusting him face first toward the bed. Hoffman got behind him, took hold of his pants and pulled them down in one quick movement. He pushed Newkirk forward, forcing his upper body to land on the thin, scratchy mattress. Hoffman then unfastened his own pants and slid them down, letting them fall to his ankles. He grabbed Newkirk's hips, rubbed his erection against him for a moment, then inserted himself into Newkirk's backside; eliciting a groan from the corporal. He made a few slow thrusts; then picked up speed as his excitement grew. Faster and faster; harder and harder; until he exploded with pleasure, digging his fingers into Newkirk's flesh as he came.

Hoffman slowly returned to earth, running his hand briefly up and down Newkirk's back. Then he extracted himself from the corporal and quickly pulled his pants up. He motioned for Newkirk to stand up; then took the cuffs off him and let him refasten his own pants. Then he shoved him back over to the wall and chained up his wrists.

Hogan couldn't watch anymore once the major got Newkirk on the bed. But he dared not close his eyes for fear of a greater punishment being brought down on his Corporal. He tried to look away, but couldn't avoid completely the scene taking place before him. When it was over, and Newkirk was once again chained up next to him, he glanced over at the corporal; and his heart broke. The entire left side of Newkirk's face was one big purple bruise. His lower lip was swollen, and the bite mark on his neck was still oozing blood. But worst of all were his eyes; vacant, staring into space, like he was shut off from the world. _How am I ever going to fix this? _Hogan thought sadly.

Hoffman stood looking at Newkirk with a smile on his face; apparently admiring his handiwork. "That was excellent!" he said at last, turning to look at Hogan. "Would you like a turn with him, Colonel?" he asked in that horrible sweet voice.

White-hot fury shot from Hogan's eyes, and he had to bite his lip to keep from telling the major what he thought of him and his proposal.

"No, I suppose not," the major continued, answering his own question. "It's a pity, though. You don't know what you're missing!"

Hogan wanted to kill him. He had never wanted someone dead so badly as this man, this devil standing in front of him. If only he could have five minutes alone with Hoffman; he would beat him to death with his bare hands!

"And now, Colonel Hogan, as for the reason you were on that road…" Hoffman said, "Perhaps you were just trying to escape after all. So I have decided to return you and your Englishman here to Stalag 13…for now." The major moved in closer to Hogan, his face mere inches from the colonel's. "I have to say, though," he continued, his voice taking on a more conspiratorial tone, "That if you _are _hiding something from me, it must be pretty important for you to let me fuck your Corporal!" A huge smile spread across his face, and then he turned and walked out of the room, laughing; his final words reverberating in Hogan's mind.

Hogan was about to explode from the rage that was consuming him. He took a few deep breaths, trying to calm himself enough so he could think more clearly. He turned his head to look at Newkirk, and his heart ached for him. Newkirk still had that faraway expression, and Hogan wondered if he'd even heard what the major said. "Newkirk," Hogan called to him, and got no reaction. "Newkirk!" Hogan said louder, "Newkirk, are you okay?"

Newkirk's eyes blinked, but he kept facing forward. "I'm…all right, Colonel," he responded in a small voice. Then he lowered his eyes dejectedly and stared at a spot on the floor.

Hogan's rage immediately started to resurface, but he pushed it back down, knowing it wouldn't help the situation any. "Newkirk," he spoke softly, not sure what to say, "Newkirk, I…"

Just then the door flew open, and the two guards that had brought them there earlier now hurried into the room; guns in hand. One of them walked up and unlocked Newkirk's wrists; then shoved him toward where his uniform shirt and jacket still lay crumpled on the floor. "Put those on!" he shouted, pointing to the pile.

Newkirk picked up his shirt and pulled it over his head gingerly, wincing when it passed over his swollen face. Then he put on his jacket, and was rewarded with another shove, this time toward the door.

The guard had freed Hogan's arms by then, and pushed him up next to Newkirk. "Schnell, schnell!" the guards yelled, directing them out of the room, down the long corridor, out the front door, and into a car parked just outside the building. The guards got in the front seat; one to drive, the other to keep his gun trained on the prisoners.

The ride to Stalag 13 took about twenty minutes. Hogan initially tried to say something, but the guard with the gun yelled, "No talking!" So they rode in silence.

It was late afternoon by now, and the sun was starting to dip below the tops of the trees. Newkirk sat looking out the car window, not really focusing on anything. Hogan had never seen him like that; so despondent, so…defeated.

They were sitting close to each other in the car, their arms touching, and Newkirk had his hand resting on the seat. Hogan, unnoticed by the guard, inched his hand over and laid it on top of Newkirk's, giving it a gentle squeeze. Newkirk finally turned his head to look at him. Hogan inwardly gasped at the utter anguish he saw radiating out of his eyes. Then Newkirk went back to looking out the window, but he let his hand stay where it was; covered by Hogan's.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

They arrived at the camp, stopping just outside the Kommandant's office. Schultz came over to meet them, and noticed one of the Gestapo guards getting out of the car.

The guard saw him coming and barked, "Here are your prisoners; you need to keep a better eye on them in the future, Sergeant!" He opened the back door to let the men out.

As the first man emerged, Schultz immediately recognized him. "Colonel Hogan! The Kommandant wants to see you in his office right away, and…" He paused as he watched the second man appear from the back seat of the car. "Newkirk!" he exclaimed, catching a glimpse of his face, "What happened to you?"

Hogan spoke up. "Schultz, could you just take us to Colonel Klink's office?"

Schultz looked hurt, but he nodded. "Okay, Colonel Hogan, go ahead," he said, gesturing toward the office door.

Hogan and Newkirk walked up the steps and headed into the outer office, Schultz right behind them. The Gestapo guards had already gotten back into their car and left.

Hogan approached the door of the inner office and knocked twice. When he heard a, "Come in," from the other side, he opened the door and saw Colonel Klink sitting at his desk; hunched over a pile of paperwork. Hogan entered, followed by Newkirk and Schultz.

"You wanted to see us, Kommandant?" asked Hogan.

Without looking up, Klink said, "Colonel Hogan, you and your man have caused me a lot of trouble today. I received a call from Major Hoffman, who, as I'm sure you are aware, was not very pleased to discover that you two had escaped from my camp… And neither am I. Under the circumstances, I've decided to give you both thirty days in the cooler." Then he glanced up at them, and his expression instantly changed from irritation to shock. "Why, Corporal Newkirk, what happened to you?"

"That's what _I_ asked him, Kommandant," Schultz piped up, "But he didn't tell me."

Klink looked at Schultz, his irritation returning. "Well, maybe if you shut up, we can find out!" he snapped.

"It was Major Hoffman, Colonel," Hogan cut in, biting back the rage that was threatening to overwhelm him yet again, "He got pretty rough with Newkirk during our interrogation." He paused briefly to collect himself, and then said, "Sir, how 'bout you suspend our sentence? I promise; we've learned our lesson."

Klink studied Newkirk's appearance, and took pity on him. He'd never much cared for Gestapo tactics; especially when they used them on his prisoners. After appearing to think it over for a few moments, he replied, "Very well, Hogan, I won't send you and Corporal Newkirk to the cooler. But you had better not try to escape again. I can't protect you from the Gestapo if they catch you outside this camp. Do you understand that now?"

"Yes we do, Colonel," Hogan responded quickly, and then he heard Newkirk say, "Yes, sir," in that same quiet voice he'd used with Major Hoffman, and it sent a shudder through him.

"All right, you're dismissed. Schultz, take them to their barracks," Klink ordered.

"Jawohl, Herr Kommandant," Schultz answered, and led the two men out of the office.

When they got outside, Newkirk suddenly grabbed Hogan's arm tightly. "Colonel," he said, looking at him fearfully, "You're not goin' to tell anyone what that bleedin' major did to me… Are you?"

Hogan looked intensely into his eyes. "Newkirk, I promise you, I'll never tell another living soul," he answered reassuringly.

Newkirk must have believed him, because he let go of the death grip he had on Hogan's arm. "Thanks, gov'nor," he replied softly, "I knew I could trust you, sir."

Hogan smiled at him, but there was sadness behind it. He couldn't help feeling responsible for what Newkirk had been through. After all, it was his job to protect him, and he had failed, hadn't he? Failed miserably. _Dammit! I wish I could have kept that monster off you, Peter._

When they reached the door to the barracks, it swung open, and LeBeau stood there, smiling. "Welcome back, mon Colonel!" he exclaimed, "We were worried about you, and… Oh, Pierre, what happened to you?" he asked when he saw Newkirk; his smile quickly disappearing.

"Blimey, I wish everyone would stop askin' what the bloody 'ell 'appened to me," Newkirk muttered under his breath, just loud enough for Hogan to hear.

They walked into the barracks, and were immediately surrounded by the rest of the men, all asking questions at the same time; especially after getting a good look at Newkirk's face. Finally Hogan held up his hand.

"All right, all right!" he shouted over the din. As the men quieted down, he looked at his battered English Corporal and pointed toward his quarters. "Newkirk, in my office," he directed, "I want Wilson to check you out." Then he turned to the rest of his men. "LeBeau, go get Sergeant Wilson, and bring him back here. Kinch, get on the horn with London. See what you can find out about a Gestapo major named 'Hoffman'."

"What about me, Colonel?" Carter asked.

"You can watch the door," Hogan said, "In case Schultz decides to come back."

Carter looked disappointed. "Yes, sir," he answered, and went to take up his position at the door.

Hogan walked over to his office and, upon entering, noticed that Newkirk was sitting on the chair by the desk. He had that faraway expression again, and Hogan wasn't sure what to say. He stood there for a few moments trying to think of something, when Wilson showed up, saving him the trouble.

"Colonel Hogan, you sent for me?" asked Wilson.

Hogan gestured for him to come over to the desk where Newkirk was sitting. "Yes, Wilson, I'd like you to take a look at Newkirk. He had a run-in with a Gestapo major today."

"I'm fine, Colonel," Newkirk spoke up, in a tone that suggested he wanted to be left alone.

"We'll see about that," Wilson said, taking a good look at Newkirk's face. As he was examining the bruise covering his left cheek, something caught his attention. "What's this?" he asked, noticing blood on Newkirk's neck. He started to pull the corporal's collar away from his neck, when Newkirk's hand came shooting up; grabbing Wilson's wrist and jerking his arm away.

"Leave off, Wilson!" Newkirk shouted, glaring at the medic, "I told you, I'm fine!"

Wilson looked at him, his concern growing. "Newkirk," he began, treading lightly, "I'm just trying to help you. Now, I need you to remove your shirt so I can examine you."

"No bloody way!" Newkirk snapped angrily, still staring at Wilson.

Hogan walked over and sat down next to the Englishman. "It's all right, Newkirk," he said, trying to calm him down, "It's just Wilson; he's not going to hurt you. You need to have that, uh, wound on your neck taken care of, or it might get infected. Now please, just take your shirt off and let Wilson do his job."

Newkirk's anger drained away, and it was replaced by despair. "If you say so, Colonel," he replied, and, with a sigh, started to take off his sweater. The neck of the sweater had adhered to the wound, so when he pulled it over his head, it ripped open the bite mark, causing it to start bleeding again. He didn't make a sound; just threw the sweater on the floor by his feet and lowered his eyes, concentrating on the top of the desk.

Wilson looked at the wound, and then glanced at Hogan as if to say, _What the hell is this?_

Hogan got up and motioned the medic over to the far side of the room, by the door.

"Colonel," Wilson barely spoke above a whisper, "It looks like someone bit him!"

"Yeah, I know," Hogan said quietly. "Look Wilson, just fix him up; and don't say a word about this to anyone… Got it?"

"Yes, sir," Wilson replied, "I'll take care of it right away." He went back to Newkirk, who was still staring at the desk, and proceeded to clean the bite mark thoroughly. Then he put something on it to help keep it from becoming infected, and bandaged it with some clean gauze.

In the meantime, Hogan had gone out into the main barracks to get Newkirk a clean shirt. LeBeau and Carter both looked at him, worry for their English comrade evident.

"Mon Colonel," LeBeau asked, looking up from the pot he was stirring on the stove, "How is he?"

"He'll be all right," Hogan replied reassuringly. "He's still pretty shaken up, though. I think he's gonna need some time to himself."

Carter, who was still standing at the door, left it briefly to walk over to the stove, where Hogan and LeBeau were talking. "So, what happened, anyway, Colonel?" he asked.

"Oh, the usual," Hogan responded, "You know how those Gestapo interrogations are. Well, I need to get this shirt to Newkirk." As he headed back to his office, he called out, "Let me know when dinner's ready LeBeau, it smells delicious!"

Wilson was just finishing up when Hogan entered his quarters. Hogan handed the clean shirt to Newkirk, who looked at him gratefully. He then motioned Wilson to join him over by the door. "How does it look?" He asked quietly.

"It's ragged, but not too deep. As long as there's no infection, it should be okay. He's going to have a scar, though."

_More like a permanent reminder, _Hogan thought to himself. "Thanks, Wilson," he said as the medic opened the door to leave.

Oh, Colonel, there's one more thing," Wilson said, pausing at the door, "Sometimes the emotional wounds take a lot longer to heal than the physical ones." He nodded his head toward Newkirk, who had finished putting on his shirt and was just sitting there, the faraway look back in his eyes.

"I know," Hogan responded softly, looking at Newkirk, then back to Wilson, "I'll see what I can do."

After Wilson left, Hogan went back to the desk and once again sat down next to Newkirk. He felt like he needed to do something, but he wasn't sure where to start. "Newkirk," he started hesitantly, "Dinner's gonna be ready soon. LeBeau's cooking something special, and you must be starving… Why, we haven't eaten all day!" Right after he said that, he could feel his stomach growling.

"I'm not hungry," Newkirk replied flatly, staring off into space.

Hogan grabbed Newkirk by the shoulders and turned him so they were face to face. He felt the corporal stiffen under his grasp, and immediately let go. "Newkirk, I'm sorry," he said, his guilt at letting this happen finally too much to bear, "I wish I could have stopped Hoffman… I'd give anything to undo what he did to you; or taken your place…"

Newkirk's eyes widened. "Colonel, no!" He replied emphatically, "I couldn't 'ave watched 'im do that to you! It's not your fault, gov'nor. There's no way you could 'ave stopped him, and you know it." He stood up and turned his back to Hogan, not wanting to face him. "It's just somethin' I'll 'ave to live with; isn't it?" he said, his voice taking on a sarcastic tone.

"Newkirk," Hogan uttered, "You don't have to go through this alone, you know."

Newkirk whirled around to face him. "Oh, I don't, do I?" He spat out angrily, "And who 'ere knows what I'm going through?"

"Peter…"

"Please, don't, Colonel, I've only got meself, and you know it! You know what you can bloody do for me? You can leave me the bloody 'ell alone!" He turned and stared out the window, willing Hogan to leave the room.

Hogan stared at Newkirk's back for a moment, knowing there was nothing he could say to help him right now. He got up and left his quarters, deciding to give Newkirk some privacy. He went out into the main barracks, at the same time that Kinch was coming up through the false-bottom bunk. Seeing the look on the sergeant's face, Hogan knew that his radioman had something to tell him.

"Dinner's almost ready, Colonel," LeBeau stated when he saw Hogan approach the table.

"Okay, thanks, LeBeau," Hogan replied as he took a seat.

Kinch walked over and sat down opposite Hogan. Carter also came over and joined them, while LeBeau divided his attention between the pot on the stove, and the men seated at the table.

"So, what did you find out, Kinch?" Hogan asked.

Kinch leaned forward slightly. "Well, sir, apparently London already knows about Major Hoffman. It seems he likes to target British prisoners, and whatever he's doing to them, they're refusing to talk about it. In fact, a few of the men that have escaped and made it back to England have committed suicide."

LeBeau let out a whistle. "Mon Dieu! That is terrible! What could that major be doing to them?"

Hogan paled slightly. Kinch noticed, and said, "Whatever it is, London wants to know."

"Hey, Colonel, does that mean he did something bad to Newkirk?" Carter asked, his voice laced with concern, "I mean, Newkirk looks pretty beat up, and he's English. And you don't seem to have any bruises or anything…" he trailed off when he caught sight of the dark expression on Hogan's face.

Hogan was seething. Not just for what Hoffman had done to Newkirk, but what he was doing to Newkirk's fellow countrymen. He was shocked, but not too surprised to hear that some of the men couldn't live with it, and had taken their lives. He wanted to believe that Newkirk would never consider that as an option, but he'd seen that look of anguish in his eyes; the one the Englishman had flashed to him in the car on the way back to Stalag 13. Was he going to have to worry about that, too, on top of trying to help Newkirk return to some sense of normal? And what was he going to tell London? He'd promised Newkirk he'd never divulge what Hoffman did to him, but he was duty-bound to inform them; not to mention that if they knew, they'd be able to help the men who'd been 'assaulted' by Hoffman. _C'mon, Rob, call it what it is… Hoffman raped those men, and you know it._

Hogan was brought out of his thoughts by Kinch asking him a question.

"What do you want me to tell London, Colonel?"

Hogan paused for a moment. "Tell 'em… Tell 'em I don't know what Hoffman's doing to his English prisoners."

Kinch kept his gaze steady. "What did happen to Newkirk, sir?"

Hogan stared back. "What I told LeBeau and Carter earlier; just your basic, typical Gestapo interrogation. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go check on him." He stood up and abruptly headed for his quarters.

When Hogan had gone, LeBeau looked at Kinch. "He knows, doesn't he?"

Kinch nodded slowly. "I'd say that's a pretty good guess, Louis."

Carter glanced back and forth between them, looking confused. "Knows what?" he asked.

"What that filthy Boche Gestapo major is doing to his prisoners." LeBeau answered him.

"But the Colonel said he didn't know," Carter said, "Why would he say that if he did?"

"He's protecting Newkirk," Kinch replied.

"From what?"

Kinch glanced at LeBeau; then he looked back at Carter. "From us," he said quietly.

* * * * * * * *

When Hogan entered his quarters, he saw Newkirk still standing at the window, staring out into the darkness. "Newkirk," he said as he shut the door, "I need to talk to you."

"I don't feel much like talkin', Colonel," Newkirk replied, his voice filled with emotion.

Hogan mentally berated himself. He couldn't just blurt out the fact that he wanted Newkirk to give him permission to tell London what happened to him. _Dammit, Rob! Show some tact! _"Newkirk, I know you don't feel like talking, but this is pretty important. Please, why don't you come over here and have a seat?"

Newkirk let out a sigh, and turned away from the window. He walked over to the desk and sat down on the chair. Hogan sat down next to him, and Newkirk turned his gaze to the colonel; a pained expression on his face.

Hogan stared at Newkirk for a moment, trying to figure out what he was going to say. At last he let out a sigh of his own, and said, "London knows about Hoffman. He's been, uh, assaulting English prisoners for a while, now."

Newkirk's eyes flew wide. "What?"

"They don't know what he's doing to them," Hogan quickly added, "But the guys who've escaped; they've been in pretty bad shape. And they're not talking about it, so London wants to know what's going on."

A flash of fear passed across Newkirk's face. "Did… Did you tell them what 'appened…?"

"No, I didn't," Hogan reassured him, "And I'm not going to; not unless you say it's okay."

Newkirk just sat there, looking at Hogan, while his emotions warred with each other. "So," he finally replied, "I'm the 'guinea pig', am I? You get to tell London all about what Hoffman did to me, and the blokes 'ere'll find out, and I'll just be a ruddy joke to the whole camp!"

"No, no," Hogan emphatically shook his head, "No one's going to find out; especially the guys here in camp; I'll make sure of it. But if we don't tell London, a lot more men are going to suffer. They need to know what Hoffman's doing to them in order to help them."

Newkirk looked away, his gaze fixating on the window. "Colonel, I… I don't know…" He looked back at Hogan, "I don't bloody want anyone else to know; can't you understand that?"

Hogan nodded slightly. "Yes, I do understand that, Newkirk. But you're not the only one going through this." He hoped he didn't sound too calloused, but he knew he had to get Newkirk to agree to let him tell London; not just for his sake, but for the sake of all the other men.

Newkirk stared at him, searching his eyes. "All right," he finally replied, "You can tell London. Just do me a favor, will you?"

"Anything," Hogan said.

"Don't tell anyone else; not even me mates out there." He glanced in the direction of the door, indicating the main barracks beyond, where he knew Kinch, Carter and LeBeau were probably sitting around the table, worrying about him.

"I won't, Peter. I promise."

Newkirk sighed. "I know you won't, sir." He looked at Hogan, and suddenly the color in his face drained away as a thought struck him; one that his mind had been purposely avoiding until now. "You… You saw it all, didn't you? You were watchin' when he…when he…" His voice trailed off, and a horrified expression took over his face.

Hogan, alarmed now, quickly responded, "No, Peter, I looked away! I didn't watch him do that to you… I couldn't."

"You must 'ave seen some of it, gov'nor," Newkirk's voice was barely above a whisper, "He ordered us both to keep our eyes open."

Hogan sat there, staring at Newkirk, at a complete loss for words. What could he say? Newkirk was right.

Newkirk stared back, reading Hogan's expression. "Oh, bloody 'ell!" he exclaimed at last; then stood up and walked back over to the window. He stared out into the darkness, his eyes focusing on nothing, while his mind raced through the events of earlier that day; every detail coming back to him, stabbing at him like a knife in his gut.

Hogan didn't even try to respond. He got up and, with one more glance at Newkirk, left his quarters. As he shut the door behind him, he felt a lump form in his throat. _How the hell am I going to help him?_ Then he quickly masked his emotions, and went to join the men at the table.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

As Hogan approached the table, Kinch and Carter looked up at him; concern etched on their faces. LeBeau, who had just removed the pot from the stove, glanced in his direction as well; the Frenchman's expression mirroring that of the other two men. Hogan knew they were worried about Newkirk, and a part of him wished he could tell them what happened; maybe they could help the Englishman recover from his horrific encounter with Major Hoffman. But he also knew how mortified the corporal would be if he did inform the rest of the team. Newkirk was not prone to openly discussing his emotions – a trait that could actually prove harmful for him in this case. _No, _Hogan inwardly sighed, _I can't tell them. This is something I'll have to do on my own._

"How is he, mon Colonel?" LeBeau asked when Hogan had reached the table.

"Tired," Hogan replied, "He's had a pretty rough day."

"You must be pretty tired, yourself, sir," Kinch said, eyeing him curiously.

"No, I'm all right," Hogan countered, somewhat perplexed at Kinch's expression. Then it dawned on him; _he knows that __**I**__ know what Hoffman did to Newkirk, doesn't he? I never could put one past him…_

"Why don't you have a seat, Colonel?" LeBeau interjected as he brought the pot he was holding over to the table, and began to dish some of its contents onto a plate.

Hogan was still standing there looking at Kinch, who was seated on the other side of the table. He glanced at LeBeau and said, "There's something I need to take care of, first." He abruptly turned and headed for the false-bottom bunk. "I'm gonna talk to London, myself," he said to them as he walked over and hit the mechanism to lower the bottom bunk.

"But, mon Colonel, dinner is ready," LeBeau called out to him.

"Keep it warm for me, will you, LeBeau? This shouldn't take long."

LeBeau sighed, "Yes, sir."

As Hogan was climbing down the ladder, he paused and looked back at his men. "And I don't want to be disturbed; understood?" He stated firmly.

This time they all replied, "Yes, sir."

After Hogan had disappeared below, LeBeau threw Kinch a knowing glance. He finished filling the first plate, and handed it to him. "Here, you might as well eat," he said, and started dishing out the next plate for Carter.

Kinch looked at the food and, although it smelled wonderful, he suddenly found he couldn't eat. He pushed the plate back towards LeBeau. "Sorry, Louis, but I'm not that hungry."

"Yeah, same here," Carter said as LeBeau tried to hand him the second plate. "Besides, I better go watch the door while the colonel's down below. You know, just in case Schultz shows up." He stood up and walked over to the barrack's door, opening it just enough to peek out into the compound.

"Now, wait just a minute!" LeBeau exclaimed, "You two need to eat; what good will it do you to go hungry? Besides, I can't let all this food go to waste."

"I can take my plate in to Newkirk," Carter said, turning his head to look at him, "That is, if someone else wants to watch the door. He must be hungry; I mean, after everything he's been through today…"

"I think the colonel said he needs some time to himself," LeBeau reminded him.

"Yeah, I know, Louis, but…he still needs to eat, doesn't he?" Carter persisted.

LeBeau looked at Kinch, who just shrugged his shoulders. "Well, I suppose it wouldn't hurt to try," the Frenchman replied.

Carter smiled. "Hey, Olsen, could you watch the door for a few minutes?" he called out to the sergeant who was sitting on his bunk on the far side of the barracks, reading what looked like a letter from home.

"Sure, Carter," Olsen said as he jumped up from his bunk and walked over to the door, folding up the paper and stuffing it into his pocket.

Carter went to the table and picked up his plate of food; then headed toward Hogan's office. He grabbed the knob and opened the door slowly, poking his head in cautiously. He spotted Newkirk standing in front of the window, staring out into the compound; although there wasn't much to see in the darkness outside. Newkirk had his arms wrapped around himself, like he was trying to warm himself up, but the room wasn't that cold.

Carter pushed the door open wider, and hesitated briefly in the doorway. "Uh, Newkirk?" he uttered tentatively, taking a small step forward.

Newkirk just stood there, not moving. "What is it, Carter?" he asked; his voice sounding strained.

Carter cleared his throat. "I brought you some dinner… I figured you might want something to eat."

"I already told the colonel I'm not hungry," Newkirk answered, addressing the reflection of Carter in the window.

"Oh, well, I'll just set it on the desk, then, so you can eat when you're ready." Carter started to walk toward the table in the middle of the small room that Hogan used for his desk.

"You don't 'ave to do that; I'm not goin' to eat it." Newkirk replied, his voice taking on an obvious note of irritation.

"You sure, buddy? 'Cause I can leave it here for you, in case you change your mind…"

Newkirk whirled around and glared at him. "What part of 'I'm not hungry' don't you understand, Andrew?" he shouted angrily.

Carter's eyes grew wide, like a deer caught in the headlights. "I… I'm sorry Newkirk," he stammered, while instinctively backing towards the door, still gripping the plate of food.

Newkirk's expression immediately softened, and he looked at Carter guiltily. "It's all right, mate," he replied softly, "I…just don't feel much like eatin' right now."

"That's okay," Carter said as he reached the doorway, "And I didn't mean to disturb you." He grabbed the doorknob and started to swing the door shut. It was almost closed, when he heard Newkirk call his name.

"Carter?"

Carter opened the door just enough to look inside. "Yeah?" he replied.

Newkirk flashed him a small smile. "Thanks, anyway," he said quietly; then turned around and went back to staring out the window.

Carter nodded at him, oblivious to the fact that Newkirk probably hadn't noticed, and then closed the door. He walked back to the table, setting his plate down heavily on top of it. "Newkirk wasn't hungry," he said, and went to relieve Olsen at the door.

Kinch and LeBeau exchanged looks; deciding it would be better not to ask.

Just then the false-bottom bunk opened, and Hogan climbed up from the tunnels. He walked over and took a seat at the table. Noticing the two plates of food sitting on top of it, he looked at LeBeau. "Are one of those for me?"

"You can have them both, Colonel," LeBeau said, then scowled, "I couldn't get Kinch or Carter to take them."

Hogan's eyebrows rose. "What?" He looked at Kinch, and then glanced over to the door, where Carter was standing. "C'mon guys, you need to eat; how else are you going to keep up your strength? Carter, you don't have to watch the door anymore."

"Oh, right, Colonel," Carter said, looking a little embarrassed. He shut the door and came over to the table, sitting down next to Kinch.

Hogan turned his head to look at his French corporal. "LeBeau, hand me one of those plates, will you? I'm starving!"

LeBeau picked up a plate and handed it to Hogan, who reached out to take it. As he set it down in front of him on the table, he glanced up at the two men across from him, letting them know with a look that he expected them to do the same.

"I'll take one of those plates, Louis," Kinch said, holding out his hand.

"Now that's more like it!" LeBeau responded, handing him a plate.

"Me too," Carter added, waiting patiently for LeBeau to grab the pot and fill another plate.

When LeBeau had finished portioning out the dinner he'd made to the three men at the table, he dished some out for himself, and sat down to join them.

Once they started eating, Kinch and Carter ended up wolfing it down; both of them unconsciously aware of how hungry they'd been.

LeBeau noticed and inwardly smiled; it made him proud to see his hard work disappear so quickly. He finished his dinner rather quickly, himself; grateful that they didn't have to resign themselves to the prisoner's mess hall.

Hogan attacked his dinner with gusto, but after a few bites, he realized that the hunger he'd felt earlier had drained away; his gut now filled with worry for Newkirk. He kept seeing the Englishman's face in his mind; the horrified look he'd thrown him when remembering that Hogan had seen at least some of what Hoffman did to him. He picked at his plate, eating as much as he could stomach, and then finally gave up. "Guess I wasn't as hungry as I thought," he said as he passed the half-finished plate of food back toward LeBeau.

LeBeau threw him a look of sympathy. "That's all right, Colonel, I know this has been a rough day for you."

_Not as rough as Newkirk's,_ Hogan thought ruefully. He nodded slightly; then turned to his staff sergeant. "Kinch, if London contacts us regarding Major Hoffman, I want you to let me know right away. I'll be handling this matter personally from now on."

"Yes, sir," Kinch replied.

Hogan nodded again, wishing he didn't have to leave Kinch out; but he'd promised Newkirk, and he wasn't about to break that promise. It hadn't been as difficult as he'd thought to tell London what Hoffman was doing to his English prisoners. Warding off their insistence on knowing how he'd found out had been another matter. But he'd stood his ground, and in the end he'd told them that _how_ he knew wasn't as important as the fact that he _did_ know, and now that he'd told them, they could help the men who had suffered at Hoffman's hand.

Just then the door to the barracks opened, and Schultz sauntered in. "Roll call!" he announced to the room, "Come on, everybody, let's go! Raus, raus!"

The prisoners automatically switched into their grumbling mode. Hogan stood up and walked over to the big German guard. "Hey, Schultz, how about letting Newkirk sit this one out? He's not feeling very well."

Schultz shook his head. "Colonel Hogan, you know I can't do that." He glanced around the barracks; then looked back at Hogan. "Where_ is_ Newkirk, Colonel Hogan?" he asked, becoming noticeably worried.

"He's in my quarters, where else?" Hogan replied, as if the answer should be obvious. "Come see for yourself." He grabbed Schultz's arm and started to steer him towards the closed door of his quarters.

Before they reached it, the door opened from the other side, and Newkirk walked out. He glanced at Hogan, and quickly looked away. "Heard it was time for roll call," he muttered as he swept past them and headed outside.

"Oh, good, he must be feeling better," Schultz replied, sounding relieved.

"Yes, he must be," Hogan echoed. Then he turned around and joined the rest of the men exiting the barracks.

Klink kept them waiting at roll call a little longer that evening, and Hogan suspected it was because of what had happened earlier in the day. It was the Kommandant's way of punishing him – punishing all of them – for an attempted escape. When Klink finally appeared, he let them go rather quickly, which surprised Hogan a little. He'd thought for sure Klink would give one of his grandiose speeches about there never being a successful escape from Stalag 13, and this is what happens when you try; citing Newkirk and himself as the example. But instead, he received Schultz's report, glanced briefly at the line of prisoners, and left; waving his hand in dismissal as he walked away.

As they filed back into the barracks, Newkirk made a beeline for Hogan's quarters, but when he reached the door, he stopped; hovering there in front of it. Hogan walked up and said, "It's all right, Newkirk, you can use my quarters if you want to."

"Thanks, gov'nor," Newkirk mumbled, and quickly disappeared inside.

* * * * * * * *

Before long it was time for lights out. Hogan had already decided to let Newkirk sleep in his quarters, at least for tonight; he owed him that. He walked over and opened the door, not surprised to see Newkirk staring out the window into the darkness beyond. "Newkirk," he said quietly, "It's time to go to bed. You can use my bottom bunk, if you'd like."

Newkirk turned around and looked at him; but he couldn't maintain eye contact for long. "I don't want to put you out, sir," he replied, his eyes drifting to Hogan's closet against the adjacent wall.

"You're not," Hogan responded. "And hey, it's not like I haven't slept in your bunk, before," he added lightly. (1)

The corner of Newkirk's mouth rose slightly, and he looked back at Hogan. "You don't 'ave to use my bunk, Colonel," he said, suddenly realizing he didn't want to sleep in the tiny room by himself, "You can use your own, you know."

"You sure?" Hogan asked.

Newkirk nodded. "I'm sure, gov'nor."

After changing for bed, all the men climbed into their bunks. Hogan hopped up to his top one, while Newkirk settled in on the one below. Soon enough there were many snores emanating not only from the main barracks, but also from the top bunk in Hogan's quarters.

Newkirk lay there, staring up at the wooden slats above his head, wishing he could just close his eyes and go to sleep, like everyone else had apparently done. But the events from earlier that day kept swirling around in his head, demanding his attention, refusing to let him relax enough to get some rest. He'd never known this kind of degradation – this utter humiliation – before, and he had no idea how to cope with it. And to think, his commanding officer had witnessed the whole thing! How was he supposed to deal with _that_?

He rolled over onto his side, and let out a disgusted sigh. _I've got to stop lettin' this get to me. Blimey, we've been through worse, 'aven't we? _He started thinking over some of the things that all of them had endured since they'd started the operation; but, try as he might, he couldn't come up with anything worse than this. _The colonel…he saw everythin'…_ He squeezed his eyes shut tightly at the thought; wishing he could just disappear into thin air, and not have to face Hogan, or anyone else, in the morning.

* * * * * * * *

_Those eyes, those black, piercing eyes, looking at him; no, looking through him…that horrible mouth pressed against his own…_

"_You're mine, now."_

"_No! Leave me alone!"_

_Hands touching him, groping him, the room filling with evil laughter…eyes on him, staring, always staring…_

"_Do as I say!"_

"_No! Get off me!"_

_More groping, then something else; something too terrible, something so very wrong…_

Hogan awoke to the sound of thrashing coming from the bottom bunk. He jumped to the floor and saw Newkirk tossing and turning on the bed; locked in a nightmare. He was moaning softly – punctuated every so often by a whispered, "No," – his bruised face contorting with fear.

Hogan sat down on the edge of the bed, watching him for a moment, trying to figure out the best way to wake him. At last he reached over and laid his hand on the Englishman's shoulder, while talking to him in a soothing voice, saying, "Newkirk, it's okay, wake up, you're having a nightmare."

As Hogan's hand made contact with the corporal's shoulder, Newkirk flinched, calling out, "No, no!" in a louder voice. He drew himself away from the touch, pushing himself up against the wall on the other side of the bunk.

_Nice going, Rob! _Hogan sighed in frustration; then said in a louder voice, "Newkirk, you're dreaming…wake up!"

Newkirk's eyes flew open, filled with terror; staring at Hogan but not seeing him. "No! Get off me!" he shouted.

Hogan's gut wrenched at the look of fear emanating from Newkirk's eyes. "Newkirk, it's me, Hogan. You're safe now," he said, once again reaching for him, but stopped short. He didn't want to cause another reaction like before.

Slowly, Newkirk's eyes cleared, and, after blinking a few times, he was finally awake. The terror dissipated, but didn't quite disappear completely. He glanced back and forth across the room several times, as if trying to convince himself that he was really in Hogan's quarters. At last the remnant of his fear drained away, and was replaced by despair. His eyes met Hogan's, and then he quickly looked away. "Sorry about that, Colonel," he uttered quietly while staring at the window.

Hogan looked at him, his eyes filling with sympathy. "Newkirk, you have nothing to be sorry about," he replied softly, "You had a nightmare…"

"And I woke you up, sir."

Hogan smiled slightly. "Hey, I was gonna get up, anyway." He stood up, walked over to his closet and leaned down, snatching the pair of socks that were sitting on top of his shoes. Then he went over and sat down on the chair by his desk, and quickly pulled the socks over his feet. "My feet get cold, sometimes," he explained.

Newkirk looked at him. "Nice try, sir," he replied, the ghost of a smirk appearing on his face.

Hogan grinned. "It's true, you know," he said, then grew serious. "You want to talk about it?"

Newkirk looked away. "No sir, not really."

Hogan nodded. "We've still got…" he glanced at his watch, "Three hours until roll call. If you want to get some more sleep…"

"If it's all the same to you, Colonel, I think I'll go back to me own bunk, and let you get some shut-eye." Newkirk swung his legs over the side of the bunk and stood up.

Hogan stood as well. "You don't have to do that, Newkirk," he told him, "I can use your bunk; that way you can sleep in private."

Newkirk shook his head. "It's not necessary, sir…I won't be sleepin' anymore tonight, anyway." Then he turned and walked out of Hogan's quarters, closing the door quietly behind him.

Hogan watched him leave, and at that moment he realized he wasn't going to get anymore sleep, either.

* * *

(1) Hogan's Heroes, _How To Catch A Papa Bear, _season four.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

LeBeau stretched out on his bunk and opened his eyes in the pre-dawn darkness; his internal clock telling him that it was time to get up. He always seemed to wake up about a half-hour or so before roll call, which left him the responsibility of putting on the coffee and rousing the men – and the Colonel – before Schultz appeared. He didn't mind, though. He knew how to make the coffee just right; whenever anyone else made it, it usually tasted like mud. At least, _he _thought so.

LeBeau stretched once more and let out a huge yawn. Then he rose from his bunk and changed into his uniform. He pattered over to the stove, picked up the coffee pot, and began to turn toward the sink to fill it with water, when he caught sight of a pair of green eyes watching him from the bunk above Carter's.

LeBeau tiptoed over to Newkirk's bunk, and looked up at him with curiosity. "Mon ami, what are you doing out here?" he whispered, "I thought you were sleeping in the Colonel's quarters."

"I tried, Louis," Newkirk whispered back, "But you know 'ow the colonel is; who can sleep with all that snorin' goin' on?" He grinned at the Frenchman.

LeBeau smiled back. "So, I take it you are feeling better?"

"A little bit, yeah," Newkirk replied.

LeBeau reached up and gave Newkirk's arm a gentle squeeze, not noticing the Englishman suddenly tense up. "That's good to hear!" he exclaimed, keeping his voice low. Then he let go and went back to fixing the coffee.

Newkirk watched him work, wondering what LeBeau would think if he knew what Hoffman had done to him. He could already see the look of pity in the Frenchman's eyes, directing it at him every time he glanced in his direction, could hear the whispers to the colonel, or worse; to the other men on their team, could feel LeBeau's sympathy for him radiating out to him every time he came near…

His face flushed with shame, and he shut his eyes tight for a moment, willing himself to stop thinking about it. He'd already decided when he'd left Hogan's quarters earlier to try to put this whole sordid mess behind him, and get back to normal…whatever normal_ was_ for him at this point.

LeBeau finished getting the coffee started. Then he headed for Hogan's quarters, knocked twice on the door and opened it a crack, calling out quietly, "Colonel, it's time to wake up; we have roll call in twenty minutes."

"Thanks, LeBeau," the French corporal heard him reply, "I'll be out in a few minutes."

"Yes, sir," LeBeau answered, and shut the door.

Hogan was already awake when LeBeau knocked. After Newkirk had left, he'd spent the remainder of the early morning hours lying on his bunk, his mind a restless jumble of questions. Was Newkirk ever going to get over this? Would he let him help? Was he going to continue having nightmares, waking up with terror-filled eyes? And what about his own role – could he have found a way to stop Hoffman? Would he really have been willing to take Newkirk's place, like he'd told the Englishman? He thought hard about that one for a moment. Yes, he would; anything to spare Newkirk the torment he was going through. But he had to admit, just watching it had been enough to make him inwardly shudder; he could only imagine what it was doing to Newkirk! Which brought him back to the first question; would Newkirk be able to recover from this? The only way he could see that happening was to get the Englishman to open up and talk to him about it. And he knew that wasn't going to be easy.

Hogan let out a big sigh; then jumped down from his bunk and began to get dressed. _If only I could've stopped Hoffman, _he thought remorsefully; then went out into the main barracks to join the rest of the men.

When he emerged from his quarters, Hogan glanced around the large room, noticing the men in various stages of waking up and getting dressed. His gaze found its way to Newkirk, and he was surprised to see the corporal standing by the corner of his bunk, chatting amiably with LeBeau and Carter. He even saw him crack a smile, and that's when it dawned on him; _he's pretending he's okay, isn't he? Probably trying to forget it ever happened; or at least, act like it never happened. _He couldn't say he was surprised; it _was_ a 'Newkirk' thing to do. But he knew it would work for only so long.

After retrieving his cup, Hogan walked over and poured himself a cup of coffee. He looked at Newkirk, and when the corporal met his gaze, he saw his eyes flash with emotion. Then Newkirk looked away for a moment, and when he once again made eye contact with him, it was gone.

Soon enough it was time to file out for roll call. Klink kept them waiting as usual, and this time, when he finally did show up, he gave them the speech that he'd spared them the previous evening. It was a nice, long speech that the Kommandant had obviously taken some time to prepare, and Hogan had to stop rolling his eyes when Klink wasn't looking, because it was giving him a headache.

At last it appeared that Klink was nearing the end of his long-winded lecture, and the sound of shuffling feet and rustling cloth could be clearly heard from the restless men. "…And now, once again I want to remind you that there has never been a successful escape from…"

Klink stopped as the sound of a car arriving through the gates reached their ears, and all heads turned toward the approaching vehicle. It was a Gestapo car, and as soon as Hogan saw it, he snapped his head to the left to look at Newkirk.

Newkirk was white as a sheet. His eyes were locked on the car, and they were widening in direct proportion to the car nearing Klink's office. By the time it stopped, Newkirk's eyes looked like they were going to jump out of their sockets.

The driver got out and opened the backseat door, holding it open while the Gestapo officer exited the vehicle. As the man straightened up, everyone instantly recognized him. Major Hochstetter!

Hogan, who had turned his head to look just as Hochstetter was emerging from the car, let out a small sigh of relief. He glanced back at Newkirk, and saw that some of his color had returned, and the petrified expression on his face had relaxed somewhat. But he was breathing a bit rapidly, and Hogan could almost feel Newkirk's heart racing from where he stood.

"What's he doing here?" Klink muttered; then hurried over to greet him. "Major Hochstetter, What a surprise! If I'd known you were coming, Major, I would have…"

"Klink!" Hochstetter shouted. "I need to speak to you in your office, schnell!" He turned and stomped up the stairs, heading for Klink's office, glancing back once to make sure Klink was following him.

Klink was indeed following him, babbling on the way he always did when he suspected he was in trouble. "So, what brings you to Stalag 13 so early in the morning? Whatever it is, I hope I can be of assistance. You must be tired from your drive. Would you like some coffee? Something to eat, perhaps? I can send Schultz…"

"Enough, Klink!" Hochstetter yelled, cutting him off. They'd reached the office by now, and after Klink had entered, the Gestapo major went over to the door and slammed it shut. Then he whirled on the Kommandant. "You had two prisoners in Gestapo custody yesterday, did you not?" he asked curtly.

"Yeh…yes, of course," Klink stammered; then cleared his throat and continued, "But they were returned yesterday evening. Surely you must already know that, since it was your office who…"

"It was _not_ my office, Klink!" Hochstetter thundered. "I found out this morning that Major Hoffman picked up two of your prisoners yesterday who were trying to escape, and one of them was Colonel Hogan! You_ know_ I am in charge of investigating anything that goes on in this camp regarding Hogan. You should have informed me immediately!"

"Bu…but Major," Klink stuttered, "Major Hoffman is Gestapo! I assumed you knew that he was holding Colonel Hogan…"

"Bah! Major Hoffman is an idiot! He likes to do things his own way, which includes overstepping his authority. One of these days I'm going to…but that's none of your business, Klink." Hochstetter leaned in toward him and lowered his voice a few decibels. "Now, I want Colonel Hogan and the other prisoner that was with him brought here to your office immediately, is that understood?"

"Yes, Major Hochstetter, right away, Major Hochstetter," Klink nearly tripped himself up trying to get to the door. He grabbed the knob and flung it open; then hurried outside. When he reached the top of the stairs leading down from the porch, he stopped and looked out at the line of prisoners; his gaze coming to rest on the sergeant who was standing in front of them. "Schuuultz!" he yelled, waving Schultz over when the sergeant turned to look at him.

Hogan watched as Schultz hurried over to the Kommandant, wishing they'd been dismissed earlier, so they could have gone into his quarters and listened in on the conversation between Klink and Hochstetter. But then, knowing the Gestapo major the way he did, he had a feeling that he'd be joining the two German officers shortly. Sure enough, Schultz had barely met up with Klink, when he turned around and headed quickly back to the prisoners.

"Colonel Hogan," Schultz puffed out breathlessly as he approached him, "The Kommandant…wants to see you and Newkirk…in his office, right away!"

"All right, Schultz," Hogan said. He looked over at Newkirk, who was staring at him; his eyes once again filling with fear. A knot formed in Hogan's gut, wishing he didn't have to do this, but he had no choice. "C'mon, Newkirk, let's go see what Klink wants."

"It's not Klink, what wants to see us, sir," Newkirk replied, a slight tremor to his voice.

Hogan stared into Newkirk's eyes. "It'll be okay, I promise," he stated, trying to reassure him. And, deep down, trying to reassure himself, as well.

Newkirk swallowed hard, and nodded at him. Hogan glanced at Schultz; then he and Newkirk headed for Klink's office, Schultz following behind.

Klink had already returned to his office, and to the impatient Gestapo major pacing inside. "Colonel Hogan is on his way, Major," he informed him, and then circled his desk, plopping down on the chair behind it.

Hochstetter eyed him with disdain. He opened his mouth to say something; then seemed to think better of it, and snapped his mouth shut. It was only a matter of minutes before they heard a knock on the door, and Hogan entered, followed by Newkirk. Schultz stepped in behind them, saying, "Kommandant, I brought Colonel Hogan and Corporal Newkirk, like you asked…"

"Very well, Schultz," Klink replied, "Now, go and dismiss the rest of the prisoners."

"Jawohl, Herr Kommandant." Schultz responded, offering Klink a smart salute. Then he turned and left.

"Major Hochstetter," Hogan smiled warmly at him, "What brings you to our happy stalag this morning?"

"Oh, I think you know, Colonel Hogan," Hochstetter replied, gesturing for them to stand near the wall opposite the desk. Hogan and Newkirk walked over and took their positions; turning to face the major.

Hochstetter scrutinized them; paying particular attention to Newkirk's face. "So, it seems Major Hoffman was more interested in interrogating you, wasn't he? Why is that, Corporal Newkirk?" He absently reached up to touch the bruise on Newkirk's face.

Newkirk's eyes popped wide, fear flashing across them, and he took a step back; bumping up against the wall. He opened his mouth, but no words escaped his lips.

"Because Hoffman's a crazy, sadistic Kraut; just like all you Gestapo officers!" Hogan retorted, determined to draw Hochstetter's attention to himself. He wasn't disappointed.

"Hogan!" Hochstetter shouted, coming to stand in front of him, "You are in no position to throw insults! You and I both know you weren't escaping. Tell me, Colonel, what were you and your corporal really doing outside of Stalag 13 yesterday?"

Newkirk blanched. Hogan noticed out of the corner of his eye, and threw a sincere look at Hochstetter. "With all due respect, Major, we just got tired of this place." He leaned in a little and said, "I don't know if you've noticed, but German food is terrible!"

"Bah! I should take you both in for interrogation, myself!" Hochstetter stood there, seething, glaring at Hogan for a moment. At last he raised his hand and pointed his finger accusingly at him. "One of these days, Hogan, I will catch you 'red-handed', as you call it, Ja? Then no one will be able to save you." He turned and stormed out of Klink's office, not even bothering to acknowledge the Kommandant.

After Hochstetter left, Hogan looked at Klink, who was still sitting in his chair, obviously relieved that the Gestapo major had gone. "Kommandant, may we go now?" he asked him.

"Yes, of course, Hogan, you're dismissed," Klink answered, waving absently at them. Then he frowned, and raised his own hand; waggling his finger at Hogan's face. "But you had better not try something like this again, do you understand?"

Hogan nodded. "Yes, sir," he replied. Then he reached over and grabbed Newkirk's arm, pulling him toward the door. "Let's go, Newkirk," he said, guiding the corporal out of the office.

They were halfway across the compound, when Newkirk suddenly yanked his arm out of Hogan's grasp. "I can make it on me own, if you don't mind, sir," he said, and purposely stepped away from him; creating a little distance between them.

Hogan felt the knot in his gut tighten, but he didn't respond. As soon as they entered the barracks, Newkirk headed straight for the false-bottom bunk, and, after triggering it, disappeared to the tunnels below.

The men watched Newkirk leave; then looked at Hogan, their faces full of questions. Carter was the first to speak up. "What happened, Colonel?" he asked, "Did Hochstetter do something to Newkirk? He seemed pretty upset…"

"Weren't you guys listening in to Klink's office?" Hogan interjected.

"No, sir," Kinch replied, "By the time Schultz let us go, we didn't have time to set up the coffee pot before Hochstetter left."

Hogan nodded thoughtfully. Then he looked at his men. "Newkirk will be okay, he just needs some time to cool off. Hochstetter got him a little rattled, that's all."

"What did he do, mon Colonel?" LeBeau asked.

"Oh, you know, what he always does; yell, threaten us, yell some more," Hogan answered vaguely, then he turned and headed toward his quarters. "I've got some things to take care of…let me know when breakfast is ready, LeBeau," he called out over his shoulder. When he reached the door he glanced back at them and stated firmly, "And I don't want any of you to disturb Newkirk, understood?"

A chorus of, "Yes, sir," sounded throughout the barracks.

Satisfied, Hogan opened the door to his quarters and slipped inside. After he shut the door, he walked over to his bunk and slammed his fist down hard on the thin mattress; needing to vent his anger, but not wanting to draw attention from the men in the outer room. _Damn that Hochstetter! _He raised his fist and brought it down again; then he turned and began to pace back and forth across the small room, needing to expel some of his furious energy. As he paced, his anger grew, and all he could think about was how much he hated the Gestapo, hated Hochstetter, and, most of all, hated Hoffman. His brain naturally turned to revenge; schemes started churning around in his head, ways to get rid of Hoffman. Not just for Newkirk, although that was his primary motivation, but for all the other men the Gestapo major had done this to. But as the energy that was being fueled by his fury drained away, his common sense returned, and he began to weigh his desire for revenge with the risks involved in taking on the Gestapo. In the end, he decided to shelve the idea for the time being, but he would continue to give it some thought, and if a full-proof plan manifested itself in his brain, he'd take Hoffman out.

Hogan was still pacing when there was a knock on the door. "Breakfast is ready, Colonel," he heard LeBeau call out.

Hogan walked over and opened the door. "Thanks, LeBeau," he said, and went to join the men at the table. As he was about to take a seat, he noticed they were one man short. "Newkirk still down in the tunnel?" he asked, already knowing the answer.

"Yes, sir," Kinch said.

"Hey, Colonel, you want me to go get him?" Carter offered.

"No, Carter, I'll go talk to him," Hogan replied, and walked over to the false-bottom bunk. After he'd climbed down, he glanced around briefly and, having a pretty good idea where he'd find Newkirk, headed down one of the side tunnels. He reached a small alcove off to the left, where the Englishman did most of his sewing; making the civilian clothes and German uniforms that they used on their missions. He found him there; sitting on an old crate, running a needle through the shoulder seam of an SS jacket.

"How's that uniform coming, Newkirk?" Hogan asked casually.

Without looking up, Newkirk answered, "Almost done, sir."

Hogan watched him for a moment. "Breakfast is ready," he said at last, "Why don't you take a break and come get something to eat?"

Newkirk kept sewing. "If it's all the same to you, Colonel, I'd like to finish this, first."

Hogan sighed. "Newkirk, you can't just hide down here…"

Newkirk glanced up at him; then back to his work. "Who says I'm hidin'? I'm just tryin' to get caught up on me sewin'."

"You know, pretending it didn't happen isn't going to make it go away."

Newkirk's head shot up. He tossed down the uniform and rose to his feet. "Then, just what the bloody 'ell am I _supposed_ to do, Colonel?" he retorted, "You tell me!"

"You're supposed to talk to me, dammit!" Hogan yelled back.

"And tell you what? You were there; you saw the whole bloody thing!"

"Yes, I was, and I know what happened to you, and I know it's eating you up inside. _That's_ what you need to talk about!"

Newkirk's face flushed with anger, and he narrowed his eyes. "Oh, I get it now. You want me to tell you 'ow bad I feel, is that it? How humiliatin' it is to live with knowin' I've been…I've been…" his eyes widened and he sucked in a huge breath, "…bloody raped," he spat out, "Just so you can feel sorry for me more than you ruddy do now!"

"That's not the reason, and you know it!" Hogan shouted, growing more and more frustrated.

"It's not?" Newkirk asked, feigning surprise; then he narrowed his eyes and continued in a more sarcastic tone, "Then why do I bloody see it in your eyes every time you look at me, Colonel?"

Hogan mentally gasped; had he unconsciously been doing that? He took a deep breath, and lowered his voice. "Newkirk…"

"No, don't," Newkirk cut him off, "I don't want your pity!" He stood there for a moment, glaring at him; then turned around and sat down on the crate, with his back to Hogan. He picked up the uniform that he'd tossed on the floor earlier, and began to examine it closely, looking for the spot where he'd left off.

For the second time in two days, Hogan found himself staring at Newkirk's back, having no idea what to say to him. At last he turned and left; walking quickly back to the main tunnel area, and the barracks above. _Nice going, Rob! _he scolded himself as he climbed the ladder; _he's never going to talk to you, now. _

Newkirk waited until Hogan was gone, and heaved a sigh. He sat there for a few moments, struggling to get his emotions under control. At last he picked up his needle and attempted to thread it, but his hands were shaking too much. His anger and frustration flared up anew, and he grabbed the uniform from his lap and, together with the needle, threw them against the wall. "Oh, bloody 'ell!" he yelled to no one, and then stood up and walked over to the wall. But instead of retrieving the uniform, his hands tightened into fists, and suddenly he was punching the dirt wall for all he was worth. He kept it up for a few minutes, until his anger was spent, then he stopped and just leaned up against the wall. _I hate this, _he thought to himself, _I hate bloody feelin' like this. But the gov'nor's crackers if he thinks talkin' about it will help…especially to him!_ _No, I can't talk about this, not to him, not to anyone. _Then he pushed himself away from the wall, brushed the dirt from his hands, and buried his feelings; determined to act like everything was fine, and that he was the same old Peter Newkirk he'd always been. But, deep down; way, way down in the pit of his stomach, an ache began to form, and it dawned on him that he'd never felt so alone.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Hogan walked over and took a seat at the table, joining Kinch and Carter, who were already working on their breakfast. The men looked at him, curious, but before either of them could ask, he said, "Newkirk will be up in a few minutes. He's catching up on his sewing."

"Would you like your breakfast now, Colonel?" LeBeau asked from his position near the stove.

"Sure, LeBeau, thanks," Hogan replied as the Frenchman dished some food onto a plate and handed it to him. He picked up his fork and began to eat, mindful to keep his expression neutral. Still, there seemed to be an air of tension hanging over him, and the silence began to stretch uncomfortably – even Carter wasn't rambling on in his usual fashion. Hogan glanced at his men, knowing he should say something, but his brain was still preoccupied with the botched conversation he'd just had with Newkirk, and trying to figure out what to do next. Finally he just took another bite of his breakfast, nodded, glanced at his French corporal and said, "This is really good, LeBeau."

"Thank you, mon Colonel," LeBeau answered, smiling from the compliment.

Just then the false-bottom bunk banged open, and Newkirk climbed out. He walked casually up to the table and sat down. "'Ow 'bout passin' some o' that over this way, Louis? I'm starvin'!" he exclaimed.

"Certainement," LeBeau replied, dishing up a plate for him. He walked over and set it down in front of Newkirk; then laid his hand on the Englishman's shoulder. "It's good to see your appetite is back, mon ami!"

Newkirk felt his body tense from LeBeau's touch, and forced himself to relax. "Why wouldn't it be?" he grinned.

"So, did you finish your sewing?" Carter asked.

Newkirk's grin faltered. "I've got a wee bit more to go," he answered. Then he grabbed his fork and scooped up a mouthful of food.

LeBeau fixed a plate for himself and sat down to join the others. As they ate, Hogan snuck a few glances at Newkirk, but the corporal made no indication that he noticed. It didn't take long for the food to disappear, and when their plates were empty, LeBeau got up to collect the dishes.

Once they were finished, Hogan turned to his radioman and said, "Kinch, I want you to contact the Underground; tell 'em we'd still like to get the location to that rocket factory, if possible."

Newkirk shot Hogan a glance, his eyes blazing. Then, just as quickly, they returned to normal, and he looked away.

"You want me to ask them to set up a meeting with the same contact?" Kinch replied, noticing Newkirk's reaction out of the corner of his eye.

"No, it will have to be someone else. The Gestapo caught our contact yesterday. He was…" Hogan paused; then heaved a sigh, "Shot while trying to escape. I already let them know last night."

"Filthy Boche!" LeBeau exclaimed angrily.

Carter's eyes widened with alarm. "Gosh! Is that how you guys got caught? No wonder that Gestapo major got rough! Boy, I sure am glad you didn't get hurt any worse than you…"

"Carter!" Newkirk shouted while leaping to his feet, his face filled with fury, "Shut the bloody 'ell up!" He stormed out of the barracks, slamming the door behind him on his way out.

After he'd gone, Carter looked sheepishly at Hogan. "I didn't mean to…Colonel, I'm really sorry, I…"

"It's all right, Carter, you didn't do anything wrong," Hogan reassured him, "Newkirk's still…experiencing some pain from his injuries. It's just making him a little more quick-tempered, that's all."

Carter's face was awash with concern. "He must have been hurt pretty bad, then…wasn't he?"

Hogan glanced down for a second. Then he looked back at Carter. "Bad enough," he replied.

A moment of silence passed over them, and then Kinch stood up and said, "I'll go contact the Underground right now, sir."

Hogan nodded. "Let me know what you find out."

* * * * * * * * *

A few hours later, Hogan was outside in the compound, leaning up against the barrack's wall, watching some of the prisoners playing volleyball. The day was clear and warm, with just a hint of a breeze blowing; the kind of day that would be perfect for a little camping, or fishing, or having a picnic, or just strolling through the park with his best girl on his arm. Instead, he was stuck in a POW camp in Germany, running a sabotage and espionage operation out of it, and wondering, not for the first time, if their missions were worth the risks – especially when they found themselves at the mercy of a sick, twisted man like Hoffman.

Oh, he knew there was always going to be an element of danger in everything they did; from blowing up trains and bridges, bringing down weapons factories and munitions plants, to meeting with contacts, or masquerading as German officers, obtaining and passing along vital information to London. Even rescuing downed flyers and escaped prisoners was a gamble. They could be caught – or shot – at any time; but they were willing to risk it if it meant aiding Allied soldiers to return home to rejoin the fight, and possibly helping to bring the war in Germany to an end sooner.

Of course, they were all well aware what getting caught entailed; especially by the Gestapo. They'd all had to withstand a certain amount of torture at the hands of the German Secret Police, so they knew more or less what to expect. But, this…? What Hoffman did to Newkirk went far beyond the basic moral threshold. As far as he was concerned, it was a perverted act that had nothing to do with the war; Hoffman was interested only in his own desire for dominance and sexual gratification. And the fact that he was obviously homosexual would not sit well with his superiors, if they ever found out. Maybe, just maybe, there would be a way to make that happen. He'd have to give it some serious thought.

In the meantime; however, he still had to figure out what to do about Newkirk. He couldn't blame him for being angry; if the situation were reversed, he didn't think he would react much better. But he did blame himself for not preventing it; it was his job to protect his men, after all. And, even though his brain knew that there was nothing he could have done, his heart was convinced that he should have found a way. It killed him to see Newkirk so hurt and angry; especially when nothing he did seemed to help. But then, how was he supposed to help him? This certainly wasn't covered in any of the Army manuals!

Hogan crossed his arms and let out a sigh. For now, perhaps the best course of action was to back off and give Newkirk some time – and space. And, who knew? Maybe Newkirk would be able to come to terms with it on his own, and be 'right as rain in no time,' as he would put it. Maybe.

The door to the barracks opened, and Kinch walked out; his head turning as he scanned the compound. When his gaze landed on Hogan, he walked over to him.

"What's the word, Kinch?" Hogan asked as the sergeant drew near.

"Got a message from the Underground, Colonel," Kinch replied, keeping his voice low, "They said they don't know if they can get that information for us, but they'll try. The agent they lost, Karl Meier, was the only one that had contact with the person who has that information. No one else knows who it is; for security reasons."

Hogan nodded in acknowledgment. "I was afraid of that," he said. "I just hope they can make contact again, I'd like to see that factory destroyed. It's already got too high a price tag."

"I think you're right, sir," Kinch answered. He leaned up against the wall next to Hogan, and watched the men who were still playing volleyball for a few minutes. Then he turned his head in Hogan's direction and said, "When I came up from the tunnel earlier, sir, I noticed Newkirk was back in the barracks."

Still keeping his eyes on the game going on in front of them, Hogan replied, "Yeah, he came back about an hour ago. I saw him go in." He paused, and then asked, "What was he doing when you saw him?"

Kinch smirked. "Playing cards with Carter. I think he was trying to make it up to him, for yelling at him before."

Hogan's eyebrow rose slightly. "So, he's back to normal, is he? That's good," he said, but a trace of worry flashed across his face.

Kinch's eyes narrowed almost imperceptively. "Colonel, you _do_ know what happened to him, don't you?"

Hogan didn't answer for a few moments. At last he sighed and said, "Yes…and I know that you know that I know."

"Careful there, sir," Kinch replied, a small grin forming on his face, "You're starting to sound like an Abbott and Costello routine."

Hogan glanced at him and chuckled. Then his expression grew serious. "I can't tell you, if that's what you're hoping for. I made a promise to him."

Kinch nodded. "I understand, Colonel, but it sure would make it easier for us to help him, if we knew what was going on."

Hogan snapped his head to look at him. "We?" he repeated, anger lacing his voice.

Kinch knew he was treading on thin ice, but he swallowed hard and continued. "Yes, sir, me, Carter and LeBeau – we all know that you know what happened, and we'd like to help."

"And just_ how_ do you all know this?" Hogan said, his anger growing.

"From last night, sir," Kinch replied, holding his ground, "When I told you that London wanted to know. Your reaction, sir, it was pretty obvious…"

Hogan brought his hand up and pinched the bridge of his nose, while squeezing his eyes shut for a moment. "Dammit! I can't believe I did that!" He muttered, more to himself. He dropped his hand and looked at Kinch. "Look, I know you're all concerned, but the best thing you can do for Newkirk right now is to just leave it alone…understand? I'll take care of it."

"Yes, sir," Kinch replied, knowing when to quit.

Hogan, still looking at Kinch, wished he could tell him; if anyone were able to help him with Newkirk, he knew Kinch would be. But he'd promised Newkirk, and if he broke that promise, Newkirk would never trust him, or anyone else, for that matter, ever again. No, he was alone on this, and he knew it.

* * * * * * * *

"Gin!" Carter exclaimed, smiling triumphantly as he laid his cards down on the table.

Newkirk's eyes widened with mock indignation. "What? You sure you're not cheatin', Andrew? That's, what, three in a row, now?"

"Four," Carter corrected him as he scooped up the cards on the table and began shuffling them. "And I'm not cheating! I'm just playing the way _you_ taught me, you know."

"Oh, is that it?" Newkirk replied, smirking at him, "Well then, 'ow do you know I'm not lettin' you win?"

"Oh, you'd never do that," Carter said; then suddenly looked up at him with suspicion, "Would you?"

Newkirk just shrugged his shoulders, flashing him his best, _who, me_? look.

Carter looked stunned for a moment; then he grinned. "You're just teasing me, aren't you? And even if you're not, it doesn't matter, because I'm still winning." He began to deal out the cards for another hand.

"Is that what you think?" Newkirk responded, raising an eyebrow, "Well, we'll see about that, won't we?" He picked up his cards and fanned them out in his hand while scrutinizing them carefully; determined to win this time.

* * * * * * * *

When Newkirk had left the barracks earlier, he'd initially walked around the camp, going from one building to the next, trying to dispel the anger that had flared up in him from Carter's comment. He hadn't meant to go off on him like that; in fact, his reaction had shocked not only Carter, but himself, as well. He'd kept walking until he'd finally ended up near the delousing station, and, after spending a little time there to calm down, realized that he was going to have to do a better job of keeping his emotions in check. He couldn't let himself go flying off the handle like that every time someone mentioned the fact that he and Hogan had been in the custody of the Gestapo. _I've got to get meself under control, _he'd thought to himself, _if I'm ever goin' to convince everyone 'ere that there's nothin' wrong with me. _

When he was finally ready, he'd walked back to Barracks two. He'd noticed Hogan out of the corner of his eye, hanging out in front of the building, but hadn't acknowledged him. Instead, he'd headed straight for the door, and had hurried inside.

The first sight to greet him had been Carter; sitting at the table by himself, playing solitaire, staring down at the columns of cards in front of him with a despondent look on his face. He'd instantly felt guilty; knowing he was the cause of Carter's current state of mind. Without hesitation, he'd walked up and plopped down at the table, and had suggested they play a hand or two of Gin. Carter's face had lit up; his expression transforming before his eyes, and he'd smiled inwardly; knowing he'd done the right thing. True, it hadn't been an outright apology, but it was the closest he was going to get, and he was convinced that Carter would accept it.

* * * * * * * *

Newkirk picked up a card from the pile, and stuffed it into his hand. "Your turn, Andrew," he said, while studying his cards.

The door to the barracks opened just then, and Hogan and Kinch entered. LeBeau, who was sitting on his bunk writing a letter, looked up at them; his gaze locking with the sergeant's for an extra second, trying to determine from his expression if he'd found out anything about Newkirk. It was obvious he hadn't, and the Frenchman inwardly sighed in disappointment.

Carter also glanced in their direction, but Newkirk kept his eyes on his cards. He wanted to make eye contact with Hogan as little as possible.

Hogan glanced at all of them and nodded slightly, fully aware that Newkirk was purposely avoiding looking at him. He walked over and grabbed his cup, and after filling it with coffee, headed straight for his quarters.

Kinch grabbed some coffee, too, and sat down at the table, next to Carter. "So, who's winning?" he asked conversationally.

"I am," Carter smiled wide, "Four games in a row!"

Newkirk rolled his eyes. "If you're goin' to act like that, mate, I'm goin' to stop lettin' you win."

Kinch chuckled. "Sounds to me like you taught Carter too well," he told Newkirk.

"Hey, that's what_ I_ said!" Carter exclaimed.

"Blimey, Andrew, just take your turn, will you?" Newkirk replied irritably, but inside he was beginning to feel a little better; just being able to return to some sense of normalcy was helping a great deal. _Maybe I can put this ruddy mess behind me, after all, _he thought to himself, _and forget it ever 'appened. _He inwardly shook his head._ Well, maybe not forget…but as far as all these blokes are concerned, it never 'appened, and that's good enough for me. _

* * * * * * * *

The rest of the day passed uneventfully, and Newkirk started to feel more and more at ease as he pushed the incident further away in his mind. Then, later that evening, Wilson came by to check on him, and that set him back a little; having to let the medic take a look at the wound on his neck. But he held himself together, and when Wilson was through, he bolted out of Hogan's quarters, hopped up on his bunk, grabbed the latest book that had been making the rounds of the barracks – he was the last one to get it – and started reading.

He'd barely said two words to Hogan all day; he still couldn't bring himself to feel comfortable around him, much less even look at him. But thankfully, the colonel hadn't tried to talk to him again, and he was grateful for that. Maybe Hogan had decided to let him take care of it on his own, and that was just fine with him. If the colonel never brought it up again, it would be too soon for him!

That night, after lights out, Newkirk stretched out on his bunk and closed his eyes, when a thought hit him, and he quickly opened them again. What if he had a nightmare? What if he woke up like he had the previous night in Hogan's quarters; terrified, yelling things out loud, huddled up against the wall next to his bunk? What if it was Carter who woke him; how was he supposed to explain his reaction to him?

He lay there for a while, staring at the ceiling, and as the sound of snoring grew louder, he got an idea. He hopped off his bunk and, grabbing his blanket, tiptoed over to the false-bottom bunk. After opening it quietly, he climbed down to the tunnel below. No one was there; the Allies had planned a large bombing-raid on several targets not far from the area, and had ordered radio silence.

Newkirk stared at the table where the radio was situated for a few moments, wondering briefly what Kinch would think if he knew what had happened to him. He got another flash of sympathetic looks and whispers behind his back, and he shuddered. Then he turned and walked down the side tunnel that led to his sewing area. He grabbed a bundle of cloth that was sitting in the corner, waiting to be turned into civilian clothes, and spread the cloth out on the floor. Then he lay down on top of it and covered himself with his blanket. The tunnel was chilly, but once he curled up and began to get a little warmer, he thought he'd be able to sleep. Sure enough, he drifted off soon after; too exhausted to stay awake another minute.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

_Those eyes again; always those eyes… Staring at him, boring into him…_

"_You're mine, now…"_

"_No! Get off me!"_

"_Would you like me to do this to your Colonel?"_

"_No! Don't you touch him!"_

_Now, someone else's eyes on him, eyes that shouldn't be watching… Eyes filled with pity…_

"No… Leave me alone…" Newkirk murmured in his sleep, shaking his head back and forth slightly, his face screwed up in pain and fear. Suddenly he felt a hand grab his arm, and his eyes flew open as he jerked away from it, while scrambling up to a seated position.

"No!" Newkirk yelled at the figure leaning over him.

The figure squatted down in front of him, and looked at him with concerned eyes. "Hey, Newkirk, it's okay, it's just me, Kinch."

"Kinch?" Newkirk echoed as he became fully awake; at last recognizing the man in front of him. "What…" He glanced around quickly and remembered he was in the tunnel. "What are you doin' down 'ere?"

"I came down to monitor the radio. What are _you_ doing down here?"

"I… Couldn't sleep, so I thought I'd work on me sewin'. Must 'ave dozed off." Newkirk yawned and stretched out his arms. "What time is it?" he asked as he brought his arms back down.

"It's four in the morning," Kinch told him.

"Blimey! That late, is it? I'd better go up to the barracks, then." Newkirk put his feet under him and began to stand up.

Kinch reached out to help him, but when he touched Newkirk's arm, the corporal flinched; turning his body away from the radioman so quickly that he almost lost his balance. He righted himself in the nick of time, and Kinch pulled his hand back.

"Are you okay, Newkirk?" Kinch asked, concerned.

"Course I am!" Newkirk retorted, "Why wouldn't I be?"

Kinch threw his hands up in a gesture of surrender. "Sorry, just asking," he said, taking a step backwards.

Newkirk's cheeks tinged red with embarrassment; fortunately for him, it was too dark down there for Kinch to notice. "_I'm_ sorry, mate; guess I'm still a bit tired." He bent down and picked up his blanket; then circled around Kinch and headed for the main tunnel area.

Kinch turned and followed him, wondering why Newkirk would have brought his blanket down with him, if he was intending to spend his time sewing. Then it dawned on him; Newkirk's plan had been to sleep down here all along. And it wasn't hard to guess that it might have something to do with that nightmare he was having when he woke him up.

When they got to the ladder that ascended to the barracks above, Newkirk wasted no time heading for it. As he started to climb up, he glanced over at Kinch and said, "See you at roll call."

"Yeah, see you there," Kinch called back, but Newkirk was already gone.

* * * * * * * *

As Newkirk was climbing into his bunk, resigning himself to staring at the ceiling until it was time to get up for roll call, Hogan was lying on the top bunk in his quarters, locked in a nightmare of his own.

_Trapped; strung up by his wrists in that horrible room once again, watching as Major Hoffman advances on Newkirk._

"_You keep your hands off him!" he shouts, pulling at the chains that hold his wrists._

"_This is your fault, Colonel." Thwack! Hoffman's hand connects with Newkirk's face._

"_Stop it! Leave him alone!"_

"_You can't stop me, Colonel, and you know it."_

"_I have to stop you! He's my responsibility…I have to protect him!"_

"_But you can't…he's mine now." Hoffman moves in close to Newkirk; begins to…to…_

_He shuts his eyes tight…he doesn't want to see._

"_Open your eyes, Colonel."_

_He opens his eyes, his stomach lurches at the sight. He doesn't want to watch, but he can't look away…_

"No," Hogan moaned, and then his eyes flew open as he jolted awake. He could feel his heart racing, and his brow was dotted with beads of perspiration. A giant knot had formed in his gut, but as the anger and frustration that was consuming him from his dream began to disperse, the knot slowly shrank; although it never did disappear completely.

He rolled over onto his side and stared out into his quarters; knowing he wouldn't be able to sleep any more that night. For the umpteenth time he tried to think of something – anything – that he could have done to stop Hoffman, but there was nothing. Then, why did he feel so responsible? Why did he feel like he should have found a way? Why did he, deep down, blame himself for what happened to Newkirk? _Because I'm the leader, I'm in charge of the operation; I'm supposed to be able to protect my men. I should have protected Newkirk, and I couldn't. _

But, was that really true? That he couldn't protect him? Or was the reason for his guilt something much deeper? Something that he hadn't yet been willing to face, something that he should have tried, but didn't? _I never told Hoffman to take me, instead; did I? Never offered to take Newkirk's place. I just stood there and watched…_

He shut his eyes tight for a moment as the realization sunk in. _That's_ what he could have done – it's what he _should_ have done. But he hadn't. Why? Was it fear that had stopped him? Or was it his utter revulsion of being on the receiving end of Hoffman's lust? Whatever the reason, he should have volunteered himself. Maybe it would have worked – maybe not – but the fact remained that he didn't try, and that's why he blamed himself. _Oh, Newkirk, I really let you down, didn't I? _ He opened his eyes and let out a sigh. _I'm so sorry._

* * * * * * * *

Soon enough it was time for roll call. The men fell out of the barracks, taking their place in line, trying not to grumble too loudly while they waited for the Kommandant to show up and dismiss them. Hogan and Newkirk stood in their customary spots next to each other, each of them doing a good job of avoiding the other. When they were finally released back to the barracks, Hogan headed straight for his quarters, and Newkirk hopped up on his bunk and grabbed the book he was reading; picking up where he'd left off.

By the time breakfast was ready, both Hogan and Newkirk seemed to be back to their old selves; the colonel discussing what was next on the agenda that Kinch had received from London, Newkirk making questionable comments about LeBeau's cooking and teasing Carter about beating him at gin five times the day before; after the American sergeant had won the first four games.

As the day wore on, the normal routine of the camp took over, and, aside from the fading bruises on Newkirk's face, the encounter he and Hogan had endured with the Gestapo was beginning to diminish in importance; at least, to those who had been unaffected by it. They had a mission the following night, and that's what they had to concentrate on now. They were to retrieve a drop of explosives and timers; to be used on a train that was scheduled to pass through their area the following week, transporting airplane parts. Hogan deliberated briefly, and decided to send Kinch and Carter out for the drop.

By the time they crawled into their bunks that evening, Newkirk had managed to convince everyone that he was sufficiently recovered. Hogan also seemed to have returned to business as usual, and as far as their interrogation by Hoffman, he appeared to consider the matter closed. But there was still a subtle tension between the two men, and they had kept their interactions with each other to a minimum.

A few more days passed, and, as far as the men in camp were concerned, the 'Hoffman' incident was rapidly becoming a distant memory. Newkirk continued to pretend that he was fine, and Hogan didn't bring it up again. They were both still experiencing nightmares once in a while, but Newkirk, in particular, had been able to control his reactions upon waking. And even though they still felt a little uneasiness around each other; that, too, was lessening.

Before they knew it, a week had gone by, and the day dawned bright and clear; the one where they were planning to go out that night to blow up the train. The men had endured another seemingly endless roll call, and had just finished breakfast, when Olsen, who had been outside gathering a team together for a game of football, came rushing into the barracks. He spotted Hogan sitting at the table, his coffee cup lifted halfway to his lips, and blurted out, "Car coming into camp, Colonel. Looks like Gestapo."

Hogan quickly set his cup down on the table. His gaze shot to Newkirk, who was lying on his bunk, on his stomach, finishing the book he'd started a week ago. Newkirk looked back; fear instantly appearing in his eyes, the color draining from his face.

Hogan stood up and went over to the door. He saw the car stop in front of Klink's office, and then the driver got out and opened the door to the back seat, holding it open for the occupant inside. When the man exited the vehicle, he stood up and glanced briefly in the direction of Barracks two, and Hogan immediately recognized him; Major Hoffman. His blood turned cold, and as he watched the major turn and head up the stairs to Klink's office, accompanied by Schultz, he closed the door. He glanced over at Newkirk and said, "It's Hoffman."

Newkirk's eyes grew wider. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. "Hoffman's 'ere?" he squeaked out at last.

Hogan nodded. Then he turned and headed for his quarters. "I better see what he wants," he said, intending to listen in on the coffee pot.

"You want us to join you, Colonel?" LeBeau asked.

"No, I'd rather do this privately," Hogan answered. Then he entered his quarters and shut the door. He pulled out the coffee pot and quickly set it up. He turned it on just as Hoffman was entering Klink's office.

"_Ah, Major, come in, please! I am Colonel Klink, and you are…?"_

"_I am Major Hoffman; Gestapo."_

"_Major Hoffman, it's a pleasure to meet you! The Gestapo is always welcome here. What can I do for you, Major?"_

"_I had two of your prisoners in custody a week ago; the ones who escaped from your stalag…"_

"_Oh, yes, of course! Colonel Hogan and, uh, Corporal Newkirk, I believe."_

"_Yes, Colonel, those are the prisoners. I just wanted to check up on them; make sure they're still here."_

"_Oh, well, I can assure you, Major, they are here! I don't think they would be foolish enough to attempt another escape; not when they know what can happen to them…"_

"_I am pleased to hear that. But, nevertheless, I would like to see for myself. So if you don't mind…"_

"_Oh, certainly, Major! I'll send someone to bring them here immediately."_

"_That won't be necessary, Colonel, I would prefer to keep this visit informal. Just tell me where they are, and I will go talk to them."_

_"Of course, Major. In fact, I'll have my sergeant of the guard escort you. Schultz, take Major Hoffman to Barracks two."_

Hogan unplugged the coffee pot and put it away. Then he stood up and walked over to the door, grabbing the knob to open it. He found himself hesitating for a second or two, desperately wishing this wasn't happening; then he opened the door and went out into the main barracks area. "Hoffman's on his way over here," he stated, looking pointedly at Newkirk.

Newkirk shrank back on his bunk. "What…what does he want?" he asked in a small voice.

"I don't know," Hogan answered, "But I think we're about to find out."

The door to the barracks suddenly swung open, and Schultz entered, followed by Hoffman. "This is Barracks two, Major," Schultz said, and then his eyes lighted on Hogan, "And there is Colonel Hogan." He gestured to him with his hand.

"Ah, Colonel Hogan, I trust you remember me," Hoffman said, a smile forming on his face.

"Yeah, I remember you," Hogan answered, fighting to keep his anger in check.

"And where is your Corporal? I'd like to see him, as well." Hoffman glanced around the room, and quickly spotted Newkirk on his bunk, huddled against the wall. "There you are!" the major exclaimed, "Please, come down here and join us."

Newkirk slowly scooted to the edge of his bunk and swung his legs over the side. He jumped down to the floor, and instinctively backed up towards the far end of the double-bunk; away from the door where Hoffman was still standing.

"Come here, Corporal, don't be shy," Hoffman said, waving him over.

Newkirk just stood there, staring at Hoffman, frozen with fear.

"All right, you've seen us," Hogan interjected, "You know we're here. Now, why don't you go do whatever it is you do, and leave us alone!"

Hoffman turned his head to look at Hogan. "Temper, temper, Colonel; I merely wanted to see how you two were doing." He looked back at Newkirk, and then walked over, stopping in front of him. He smiled at the Englishman, and asked in that sickeningly sweet voice of his, "Did you miss me, Corporal?"

Newkirk felt a shudder run through him as he continued to stare at Hoffman, unable to respond. His heart was racing, and his entire body was as tense as a board.

Hoffman leaned in a little and lowered his voice. "I missed you," he purred, just above a whisper.

A strangled moan escaped Newkirk's lips.

Hoffman leaned back again. "I see your bruises are almost gone," he remarked as he reached up to touch Newkirk's face.

Newkirk turned white, his eyes reflecting the terror that was welling up inside him. "No," he uttered, taking a step backwards and bumping up against the end post of the double-bunk.

Before Hoffman's hand could connect with Newkirk's cheek, Hogan practically flew across the room and jumped in front of the Englishman. "That's enough!" he shouted into Hoffman's face.

Hoffman's expression darkened. "I don't know what you think you're doing, Colonel, but, trust me; you don't want to make me angry."

"Well, then, why don't you leave, and you won't have to get angry," Hogan replied. Then his eyes darkened and he added, "And nothing will happen to you."

Hoffman's eyes widened. "Are you threatening me, Colonel?"

Hogan's expression didn't change. "Take it any way you want…_Major_."

Hoffman glared at him for a moment. Then he backed up toward the door, keeping his eyes locked on Hogan's. "We shall meet again, Colonel Hogan; perhaps I'll bring you in for another round of questioning...You and your Corporal, of course." He glanced at Newkirk, who was standing behind Hogan, looking petrified. A smirk formed on his face; then he looked at Schultz and nodded, and the German sergeant escorted him out of the barracks.

When he'd gone, Hogan whirled around to look at the terrified man standing behind him. "Newkirk, are you okay?" he asked worriedly.

Newkirk stared at Hogan, his jaw soundlessly working.

"Newkirk?" Hogan reached out and grabbed his arms.

Newkirk jerked away like Hogan's hands were burning him. "No, leave me alone!" he shouted. Then he glanced around the barracks and, noticing all eyes were on him, forced himself to calm down. "I…I'm all right," he said, the slight tremor in his voice belying his words. He backed up to the false-bottom bunk and hit the trigger. "I just… I've got somethin' I 'ave to take care of…" His voice trailed off as he climbed onto the ladder, and then he disappeared down into the tunnel.

For a few moments, not a sound was heard; then Carter broke the silence. "Geez, Colonel, whatever that major did to Newkirk must have been pretty bad; I've never seen him so scared!"

"Carter!" Hogan shot him a look of annoyance.

"Sorry, sir," Carter replied.

Hogan sighed. "It's all right; I know you're worried about him; you _all_ are. I'm sure he'll be okay; he just needs some time to himself right now."

LeBeau suddenly had a thought. "Colonel, you don't think Pierre would leave camp in broad daylight, do you? Maybe try to escape?"

Hogan shook his head. "No, he wouldn't do that. He's probably just cooling off down in the tunnel."

"You want me to go check on him, sir?" Kinch asked.

"No, Kinch, I'll do it. But I'm gonna give him a few minutes to himself."

* * * * * * * *

After Newkirk hopped off the ladder, he practically ran down the tunnel to his sewing area. He began to pace back and forth in the small space like a caged animal, his thoughts whirling around furiously in his head. _Hoffman was __**'ere**__! He came __**'ere**__! Just to see me and the Colonel… And now he wants to take us in for more questionin'… No, he wants to, to… _ He stopped in his tracks and shook his head; he didn't want to finish that thought. Then he resumed pacing. _No, I won't let him take me… I'll bloody escape, that's what I'll do! I'll go back to London; forget this ever 'appened… _He stopped again. _But, what about the operation? I can't just leave me mates like that… _He started pacing again. _At least they don't know what Hoffman did to me..._ He stopped once again, his eyes growing wide. _Oh, bloody 'ell! What if they figure it out? I put on a right bloody show up there, didn't I? They're goin' to want to know why I'm so afraid of Hoffman…_ Then he sucked in his breath. _What if the colonel tells 'em? No, _he shook his head, immediately dismissing that thought, _the gov'nor would never do that…he promised. _Just then he heard footsteps approaching, and wasn't surprised to see the colonel appear.

Hogan looked at him for a moment, trying to figure out what to say. "Newkirk… How are you doing?" he finally asked.

"'Ow do you _think_ I'm doin'?" Newkirk replied irritably; then instantly regretted it. He let out a sigh and said quietly, "I'm fine, Colonel."

"You don't sound fine to me." Hogan saw the Englishman's anger flaring up again, and quickly added, "Newkirk, you need to talk about this."

"Talk about what? That I bloody lost it in front of the whole barracks? That I showed those blokes 'ow scared I am of Hoffman, and now they're all goin' to think I'm ruddy crackers?"

Hogan's eyes widened with surprise. "Is that what you're worried about? What the other guys are gonna think?"

"Wouldn't you be?"

"Newkirk, I'm more worried about what Hoffman's done to you; the fact that you're not dealing with it…that's why you're so afraid of him."

Newkirk's eyes narrowed. "Oh it is, is it? Well, now, I didn't know you were a ruddy psychiatrist!"

"Newkirk…" Hogan felt his own anger and frustration rising, and pushed it back down. "You can't keep pretending it didn't happen, or you're never going to get rid of the fear. You've got to talk about it. And if you don't want to talk to me, there's a bunch of guys up there that would be more than willing to help."

"No bloody way!" Newkirk shouted. "They can't know…ever!" _It's bad enough that you know, gov'nor._

"Peter," Hogan said, "They're not going to think any less of you, if that's what you're worried about."

"I said no. And you better not ruddy tell 'em… You promised!"

Hogan let out a sigh. "I know, and I won't tell them."

Newkirk walked over and leaned against the wall. He stared out into the room, not focusing on anything, and let out a sigh. "Blimey, it's just not fair, is it? Everythin' was fine, all back to normal, and then Hoffman 'ad to bloody show up." Then he turned his head and looked at Hogan. "He wants to take us back there, you know. He wants to…to…" He cast his eyes to the floor, unable to finish.

"I'm not gonna let that happen," Hogan stated resolutely.

Newkirk looked up at him. "And just 'ow do you plan to stop 'im?"

"I'll think of something," Hogan answered. "In fact, I think it's time we got rid of him for good."

"If you can do that, gov'nor, then I won't 'ave a reason to be afraid anymore."

_Maybe not from Hoffman, _Hogan thought to himself, _but you're never going to be over it completely until you let someone help you. _He crossed his arms and said, "I'll see what I can do. In the meantime, we've still got a train to blow up tonight, and it's going to take five of us. I think it'd be better if you stay here; Olsen can fill in for you."

Newkirk's eyes widened. "No, sir, please, I want to go. "

"You sure you're up for it?"

Newkirk nodded. "I'm sure."

"All right, you can come." Hogan smiled at him. "Now, why don't we go back up to the barracks, and let the other guys know you're okay?"

"You go on ahead, sir, I'd just like a few more minutes to meself, if you don't mind." Newkirk returned Hogan's smile with a small one of his own.

"Okay, but don't take too long, or someone's liable to swipe that book off your bunk before you get a chance to finish it."

Newkirk raised an eyebrow. "Why would anyone do that? The whole camp's read it."

"I haven't," Hogan said, winking at him. Then he was gone.

Newkirk walked over and sat down on the crate in the middle of the room. He rested his elbows on his thighs, and lowered his head, cradling it in his hands. _The gov'nor just better find a way to stop Hoffman, 'cause if he doesn't…_ _If he doesn't, maybe I will._


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

Hogan returned to the barracks, and after climbing up from the tunnel, he walked over to the table where Kinch, Carter and LeBeau were hovering, waiting for word about Newkirk.

Hogan flashed them a reassuring smile, and said, "Newkirk's all right, he'll be up in a few minutes."

The three men nodded, not sure what to say. They wanted desperately to know what Major Hoffman had done to Newkirk, to cause such a reaction from the Englander, but Hogan had made it clear that it was not up for discussion. Finally LeBeau blurted out, "Is there anything we can do for him, mon Colonel?"

"Just… Don't ask him about it, okay?" Hogan replied, "If he wants to talk about it, he'll let you know."

"Yes, sir," they all mumbled.

"Colonel," Kinch looked at him curiously, "It seems kind of strange that Major Hoffman would come here, just to check up on you and Newkirk. I mean, Hochstetter's in charge of the suspicious activity in the area, and he's convinced you're behind it. If anything happened to you, he'd be all over it."

"That's right!" Carter exclaimed, "If anyone was going to question you, it would be him."

LeBeau nodded. "Oui, Colonel, I don't see Hochstetter letting someone else take you in for questioning."

"Maybe Hoffman can't," Carter suggested, "Maybe that's why he didn't take you and Newkirk away, even after you threatened him."

"Maybe," Hogan replied, thinking back to Hochstetter's last visit. The major had acted like he knew nothing about the actual interrogation that Hoffman had conducted on him and Newkirk, only that Hoffman had held them in his custody and questioned them. Could it be that Hoffman wasn't supposed to be interrogating them? Hochstetter had seemed pretty angry, but now, thinking back on it, his reaction had been more subdued than normal. Any other time, the major would have stomped around the office, accusing them, threatening them, and yelling at them until his face turned as red as LeBeau's sweater. But this last time, he'd merely gotten up in their faces a little, and after a perfunctory threat or two, had quickly left. So, maybe Hoffman wasn't supposed to have interrogated them. Maybe he even got in trouble, and if he tried it again, he might find himself on a train to the Russian Front, or worse. Maybe they didn't have to worry about Hoffman taking them out of camp, after all.

And as those thoughts sunk in, Hogan inwardly sighed; those were a lot of 'maybes'. But then, he knew where he could go to start getting some answers.

"I'm going to talk to Klink," Hogan announced, as he headed for the barracks door, "See what he knows about all this."

Hogan strode across the compound, glancing briefly toward the gate. Hoffman was long gone, but he felt the need to convince himself, anyway. He reached the steps leading up to Klink's office, and practically leaped up them to the porch. Then he entered the building, and, after a few short raps on Klink's door, opened it in his usual fashion; without waiting for a response.

"Got a minute, Kommandant?" Hogan asked in a lighthearted tone, walking into the room and plopping down on the chair in front of Klink's desk.

Klink, who was sitting behind his desk, looked up at him with irritation. "As a matter of fact, Hogan, no, I'm very busy right now."

"This won't take long, sir," Hogan replied, "I was just wondering why Major Hoffman came here to pay us a visit?"

"To check up on you," Klink said, "Surely you spoke to him when he came to your barracks, didn't you?"

"Yes, I spoke to him. But it seems strange that he would come here, don't you think, Colonel? I mean, I thought Hochstetter was in charge of keeping tabs on me."

Klink scowled at him. "Yes, Hogan, he is. But maybe he sent Hoffman here because he was too busy to come, himself; or did that not occur to you?"

Hogan leaned forward slightly. "Then why did Hochstetter show up here last week, and act like he had no idea what went on during the interrogation that Hoffman put me and Newkirk through, after he caught us trying to escape?"

Klink sighed in disgust. "Who knows? That man is never satisfied. I don't see why it should matter whether you're questioned by Major Hoffman or Major Hochstetter; they both work for the Gestapo. But, Major Hochstetter has to be in charge, doesn't he? He even complained that Hoffman had overstepped his authority…" Klink suddenly seemed to realize what he was saying, and quickly changed tactics. "Hogan, I'm very busy, so if you don't mind…?"

"Oh, certainly, Kommandant, I didn't mean to disturb you." Hogan quickly stood up and headed for the door. He turned briefly to offer Klink a salute, and then disappeared; not even waiting for the German officer to return it.

When Hogan arrived back at the barracks, he noticed that Newkirk had emerged from the tunnel, and was once again lying on his bunk, staring at the last pages of the book he'd been reading for a week, now. He glanced up at him, but the corporal didn't acknowledge him; just continued to study the book he was holding. He looked at the rest of the men briefly; then he headed for his quarters, determined to do some serious thinking – about Hoffman, about Hochstetter, and about the Gestapo in general.

The day passed rather quickly, and soon enough it was time for lights out. Schultz visited their barracks to personally let them know, and, after he left, Hogan and his team headed down to the tunnel below to get ready for their mission. Everyone was unusually quiet, which served to speed up their preparations a little. As they headed out of the tunnel and into the forest beyond, they secretly wished themselves – and each other – luck that the mission would go off without a hitch.

They arrived at the train tracks, and began placing the explosives. It took some time, but at last everything was ready. They retreated to a safe distance and waited; intent on taking in the view when the train hit its mark.

Soon the giant, metal behemoth came into view, and they braced themselves for the resulting fireworks. They weren't disappointed; the train exploded in a spectacular display of thunder and fire, and the men were all smiles as they watched the ascending fireballs light up the night sky.

Newkirk found himself especially fascinated with the light show. He'd kept to himself for the remainder of the day, lost in thought, growing more and more uncomfortable about the reaction he'd had to Hoffman in front of everyone, and what they must think of him. Everywhere he'd glanced, he'd felt sympathetic eyes on him; eyes filled with pity – just what he didn't want. By the time the day had ended, he'd been chomping at the bit to go on this mission, if only to prove to them that he was fine, and they didn't need to worry about him.

And now, as the flames grew in the distance, he stood there, watching, feeling his body tingle with energy. His mind seemed to disconnect as he stared at the fire; and the thoughts that began to permeate his brain took on a life of their own. What would it be like, to be on that train, caught in the blast? Would he feel surprise? Or would the end come so quickly, that there wouldn't even be time for that? In a split-second; no, a micro-second, it would all be over…

"Newkirk?"

A hand landed on Newkirk's shoulder, and so engrossed was he in his thoughts, he barely noticed.

"Newkirk, it's time to go."

Newkirk's mind finally returned to the present, and he turned to look at Hogan, who was staring at him with concern. "Oh, right, sir," he replied, inwardly shaking off the strange feeling that had come over him. He went to join the rest of the men, who had already started back, knowing without a backward glance that Hogan was right behind him.

They made it back to camp without incident, and after spending a few minutes in the tunnel getting cleaned up and changed, they climbed up to the barracks and crawled into their bunks. Exhausted, they all fell asleep soon after; even Newkirk couldn't keep his eyes open for long.

* * * * * * * *

The next few days proved to be busy ones for Hogan and his crew. A large-scale bombing raid was undertaken not far from their vicinity, and suddenly they found themselves inundated with downed flyers. Getting them safely to the tunnels beneath the camp was only half the battle; getting them out of Germany proved to be a greater challenge. But the men worked tirelessly, and the flow of traffic in and out of the secret basement of the Stalag was kept running smoothly.

Newkirk tried to keep up appearances, but he found himself growing despondent, knowing that the others were more worried about him than ever. He could see it in their eyes; every time they looked at him. At least he could take comfort in the fact that they didn't know what actually happened to him, but their concern and sympathy for whatever it was they imagined he'd been through was weighing on his nerves. He began to withdraw more and more, spending most of his time either below in the tunnels, working on his sewing, or, when he had to be in the barracks, reading books or writing letters – anything that would make him appear to be busy, and not interested in conversation.

Hogan was fighting a battle of his own during that time; trying to work out a plausible and least-likely-to-get-them-all-killed solution to the Hoffman problem. They couldn't just storm Hoffman's office and do away with him; that would be suicide. Perhaps they could bait him; draw him away from his house of horrors and make him disappear. But how would they handle Hochstetter's presence, which was sure to follow? His poking and prodding, his snooping around the camp, convinced that Hogan had something to do with Hoffman's disappearance would be a nuisance, at best – and could easily lead to disaster. And how would they go about luring Hoffman away, anyway? These were all problems that he knew would take time to solve. But time wasn't on his side; he couldn't afford even one more visit by that major; he wasn't sure how much more Newkirk could take.

The traffic in and out of the prison camp kept them all hopping for a few more days, until finally things seemed to calm down somewhat as they got the last of the flyers out of there; headed for their rendezvous with the sub that would take them to England. The respite was welcome, although short-lived. Just shy of a week since they'd bombed the train, they were told to take care of an ammunition dump that was located on the outskirts of Hammelburg. They'd barely acknowledged their reply, when the Underground informed them of a few prisoners who had escaped from another stalag, and were headed in their direction. It looked like they were going to have to retrieve the escapees and blow up the ammunition dump on the same night.

* * * * * * * *

"All right, I want to go over this one more time," Hogan stated as he glanced at each of his men before they headed out into the night. "Carter; you, LeBeau and Kinch will place the explosives at the ammunition dump, and Newkirk and I will meet with the prisoners who escaped from Stalag sixteen and bring them back here. With any luck, we'll all return around the same time. Any questions?"

The men were silent; all of them confident of the details, since they'd gone over them many times already.

"Okay," Hogan nodded approvingly, "Let's go."

They took off, each group wasting no time heading for their destination. Carter, Kinch and LeBeau found the ammunition dump easily enough, and placed the explosives carefully; setting the timers to go off two hours later. Then they high-tailed it back to camp, a little surprised to have arrived first.

"I hope the colonel and Newkirk didn't run into any trouble," Carter said as they changed out of the black clothes they'd worn for their mission.

"I'm sure they're fine," Kinch replied, attempting to reassure Carter, as well as himself.

Just then they all heard footsteps approaching down the tunnel, and glanced at each other; a mixture of hope and uneasiness passing across their faces. But then Hogan came into view, and they all breathed a sigh of relief. He was followed by a couple of bedraggled escapees, with Newkirk bringing up the rear.

"Come on in, have a seat," Hogan told the two exhausted men, gesturing to the bench against the tunnel wall. "It's not much, but we call it home."

One of the men, an American sergeant, glanced around the tunnel in awe. "Fantastic! I still can't believe you smuggle people in and out of a prison camp!"

"Neither can the Germans," Kinch said, an amused grin on his face.

The sergeant looked at Kinch. "Can't say I'm surprised," he replied, smiling back.

"I'm Kinch," the radioman introduced himself, then pointed at the others, "That's LeBeau, and that's Carter."

"Nice to meet you all," the sergeant said, "I'm Monroe, and this here's Cooper." He gestured to the RAF private that was standing next to him. "He doesn't talk much."

Private Cooper glanced quickly at the three men standing around the large table in front of him, and then lowered his gaze to a spot on the floor.

"That's all right," LeBeau said, stepping forward a little, "We have enough men here that do more than their share of talking." He glanced to his right. "Don't we, Carter?"

"Hey, what's that supposed to mean?" Carter exclaimed.

Hogan chuckled under his breath. Then he repeated his offer from earlier. "Please, have a seat."

Monroe looked grateful. "Thanks, Colonel." He walked over and plopped down on the bench. Cooper followed, and sat down next to him.

Hogan turned to his men. "Okay, Kinch, contact London, tell them we've got two escaped prisoners to get out of here; find out when the sub can pick them up."

"Yes, sir," Kinch replied as he sat down at the table and put on his headphones; his hands already working the radio.

Hogan turned to the Frenchman. "LeBeau, I bet these two are hungry. Think you can scrounge up something for them to eat?"

"Oui, Colonel," LeBeau answered, and walked over to the ladder, climbing swiftly up to the barracks.

"And Newkirk," Hogan turned to look at him, "See if you can come up with a couple of civilian outfits for these guys to wear."

"No problem, sir," Newkirk responded, and headed off for his sewing room.

"Carter," Hogan now addressed his demolitions expert, "Any problems with the ammunition dump?"

Carter squared his shoulders. "No, sir, everything's all set. The explosives should go off in…" he glanced at his watch, "An hour and ten minutes."

Hogan nodded. "Good. All right, I'm going up to my quarters. Kinch, as soon as you're finished talking to London, and LeBeau's brought down some food, I want all of you to come up to the barracks. When that dump explodes, I want us to all be 'sound asleep'."

Kinch looked at Hogan, nodding in understanding. "Yes, sir," he said.

Hogan glanced at Monroe and Cooper. "We'll get you out of here as soon as we can."

"Thanks again, Colonel," Monroe replied.

Hogan smiled at him, and then climbed up to the barracks.

A few minutes later, LeBeau came back down, carrying a plate in one hand. "I found some bread, and some cheese." He handed the plate off to Monroe once he stepped off the ladder.

"Thanks, LeBeau," Monroe replied, and took the dish gratefully. He set it on his lap and broke off some of the bread and cheese for himself; then handed the plate to Cooper.

Cooper grabbed the plate, and after setting it on his lap, picked up the bread and began to nibble on it.

"So, how long have you been at Stalag sixteen?" Kinch asked Monroe.

Monroe looked up at him. "I've been there about eight months. Cooper just got there a week ago."

"Really?" Carter looked surprised. "Well, a week isn't so bad. Heck, I've been here at Stalag thirteen for almost two years. Funny thing; though, it doesn't feel like it's been that long. I guess when you're busy; time really does fly, doesn't it? I mean, it seems like only yesterday…"

"I think he gets the picture, Carter!" LeBeau interrupted.

Monroe smiled. "Two years is a long time, though. A lot of the guys in the camp we escaped from have been there at least that long. They seem to handle it okay…I guess people can adjust to just about anything."

"You must be glad to be getting out of there so soon, Cooper," LeBeau said, addressing the Private.

Cooper glanced at the Frenchman; then looked back down at the floor.

"You'll have to forgive him," Monroe said, "He got interrogated by the Gestapo before being sent to our stalag, by a Major Hoffman, I think his name was. The major messed him up a little, that's why I wanted to bring him with me when I escaped."

LeBeau, Carter, and Kinch exchanged looks. "Yeah, the Gestapo can get pretty rough," Kinch replied.

Newkirk came back to the main tunnel just then, and looked at Monroe. "I've got somethin' fixed up that should fit you, Sergeant. If you don't mind, I'd like you to come try it on."

"Sure," Monroe said, and, after he stood up, went to follow Newkirk.

Private Cooper just sat there, slowly working on the piece of bread in his hands. He was obviously young – way too young to be fighting in a war. At least, that's what LeBeau was thinking when he went over and sat down next to him.

"When you finish that, I have a chocolate bar here, if you like," LeBeau said, producing the candy from his pocket and showing it to the private.

"No, thanks," Cooper replied in a small voice.

"You know, all of us here have been questioned by the Gestapo," LeBeau informed him, waving his hand in the direction of Carter and Kinch, "It's okay to be scared."

Cooper looked at LeBeau, his eyes widening. "You 'ave? All of you?"

LeBeau nodded. "Oui," he said quietly, and then added, "Sometimes it helps to talk about it."

Cooper swallowed hard. "Did…did he…" he lowered his voice to a whisper, "Did he rape you, too?"


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

"There, 'ow's that?" Newkirk asked Monroe as the sergeant slid his arms into the jacket that the Englishman was holding open for him, and pulled it up over his shoulders.

"Hey, that fits pretty well," Monroe said, buttoning up the front; then stretching his arms out in front of him, his eyes on the cuffs to see if they shrunk too far up his arms when he moved. They didn't, and he smiled. "You'd make a good tailor," he commented.

Normally, Newkirk would have come up with a witty retort to that, but instead he just nodded slightly and replied, "Thanks."

Monroe eyed him curiously. "Not a big talker, are you?"

Newkirk shrugged. "Just 'ave nothin' to say, is what."

"You and Cooper. If I didn't know any better, I'd swear it was a British thing," Monroe remarked. Then he clapped Newkirk's shoulder and grinned at him. "But I've known plenty of Brits that'll talk your ear off, and plenty of Americans that, it's like pulling teeth to get them to say two words."

When Monroe's hand landed on him, Newkirk tensed, but he didn't flinch. "Guess we're all different that way," he said, and stepped away from the sergeant, removing his shoulder from under Monroe's hand. He walked over to a pile of clothes in the corner and leaned down, searching for a pair of pants that would fit the tall American sergeant.

Monroe, who had always been a gregarious fellow, wasn't ready to give up on the conversation just yet. "Of course, Private Cooper out there, he's got a reason for being so quiet. He had a run-in with the Gestapo a short while ago. I don't know what they did to him, but when he showed up at our camp, he didn't say a word for days."

A shiver ran down Newkirk's spine, and his gut instantly tightened into a knot. He stood up and whirled around. "Which Gestapo building?" he blurted out.

Monroe looked at him with confusion. "I don't know…just the local one, I guess. I already told your friends out there about it. The guy who interrogated him was a Major Hoffman…"

Newkirk's eyes grew as big as saucers. He rushed out of the room before Monroe had a chance to finish his sentence. When he got close to the main tunnel area, he slowed, and then, almost on instinct, stopped just shy of revealing himself. He plastered himself against the tunnel wall, the one leading into the main area, and waited; listening.

"You know, all of us here have been questioned by the Gestapo,"_ LeBeau's voice. _"It's okay to be scared."

"You 'ave? All of you?"_ That must be Cooper's voice._

"Oui, sometimes it helps to talk about it." _LeBeau, again._

Cooper said something in response, but Newkirk didn't catch it; the private spoke too quietly for him to hear. He shifted slightly, and strained his ears to pick up the next part of the conversation.

* * * * * * * *

LeBeau stared at Cooper, wide-eyed. At last he found his voice and exclaimed, "Mon Dieu! Is that what Major Hoffman did to you?"

"Isn't…isn't that what he did to you?" Cooper stammered, his panic over prematurely revealing his ordeal obviously growing.

LeBeau turned to look at Kinch and Carter, whose jaws were hanging open; their faces reflecting the shock that he, himself, was feeling. "You don't think…?" was all he managed to say.

Kinch closed his mouth and slowly nodded. "Yes, I do," he said, "It makes sense, doesn't it?"

Carter glanced back and forth between LeBeau and Kinch, completely bewildered. "What? What makes sense?"

"Andrew…" Kinch paused, trying to think of a way to tell him, without coming right out and saying it, "What Hoffman did to Cooper, here; that must be what he did to Newkirk."

Carter looked at Kinch, glanced over to Cooper, then back to Kinch. "You mean…?"

_Oh, bloody 'ell; they know! _Newkirk's mind shouted as he heard his friends, his mates, discover the truth. His heart started racing, his body began to tremble, and he suddenly realized he had to get out of there.

Kinch was nodding at Carter when Newkirk emerged from the shadows of the adjacent tunnel. The Englishman just stood there for a moment, staring at the shocked faces in front of him. Then his rage and humiliation took over, and he shouted, "Yes, Andrew, Hoffman bloody raped me!" His gaze raked over his three friends, his eyes shooting daggers at each of them. "So, now you know… You all bloody know!" He turned and ran down the tunnel that led to the emergency exit, oblivious to whether anyone was following him or not. After he climbed up through the tree stump, he took off into the woods, not caring where he was going; as long as it was far away from camp.

The three men glanced back and forth at each other for a moment, trying to digest what just happened, and then Kinch looked at Carter and said calmly but firmly, "Go get the colonel."

* * * * * * * *

Newkirk moved quickly through the woods, occasionally stumbling over a rock or tree root that lay hidden under the forest, only vaguely aware of how much noise he was making – and he didn't care. His mind was in utter turmoil; the image of the shocked expressions on the faces of his friends replaying constantly in his head. They knew! They knew what Hoffman did to him! How was he supposed to face them, now? How could he ignore the whispers and looks of pity thrown his way every time he entered a room? Oh, they'd try to hide it, but he knew it would be there; their sympathy, their relief it didn't happen to them, their hidden disgust that he'd let a man touch him…

He had to stop and catch his breath at that last thought. He really hadn't tried to stop it, had he? Hadn't tried to fight Hoffman off. Granted, the major had made a pretty convincing threat against Hogan, and he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that Hoffman would have gone through with it, but he still hadn't put up any resistance whatsoever. He'd just let that monster have his way, and he went along with it willingly. So, maybe it was his own fault that he was in this mess; maybe he should have fought back; maybe he should have struggled… And if he had, Hogan would be dead, and he would be to blame.

Newkirk took a few steps to his right and leaned against a tree. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, his face clearly reflecting his anguish. There was no way to win, was there? There was no way he could have let Hoffman kill Hogan, so now he had to live with the shame of being raped by a man for the rest of his life. And now his mates knew, too… How was he supposed to live with that?

He drew in a large breath of air, and let it out slowly. There had to be something… Something he could do to end his pain. Suddenly a thought struck him. He opened his eyes and glanced around him, getting his bearings. Then he started off through the woods; this time with a destination in mind.

* * * * * * * *

Carter climbed up to the barracks and hurried over to Hogan's quarters. He rapped on the door a couple of times, and without waiting for a reply, flung it open and shouted, "Colonel, Come quick! We need you in the tunnel!"

Hogan, who had been reclining on his bunk, reading a book to help him unwind from the mission, quickly sat up. "What's wrong, Carter?" he asked, noting the near panic in the sergeant's tone.

"It's Newkirk…he's gone!" Carter exclaimed as Hogan jumped down from his bunk and headed for the door.

"What do you mean, gone?" Hogan said, directing his question over his shoulder at Carter, who was following behind him as they strode quickly to the false-bottom bunk.

"Well sir, he took off down the tunnel after he… What I mean is, when we found out about…" Carter stammered, suddenly finding it difficult to tell Hogan what they'd just learned about Newkirk's encounter with Major Hoffman. He watched as Hogan climbed down the ladder, and then swung his legs over the side of the bunk and followed him, relieved that Kinch could take over filling the colonel in.

Hogan jumped off the last rung of the ladder and walked over to Kinch. He glanced at LeBeau, who was still sitting next to Private Cooper, and, noticing the shocked look on both their faces; turned back to Kinch."What's going on?" he asked his second-in-command.

"Colonel," Kinch began, "Private Cooper here," he gestured to the terrified man seated on the bench, "Was apparently interrogated by Major Hoffman before he got sent to Stalag sixteen. He, ah, told us what Hoffman did to him, and we, well, we kind of figured out that that's what happened to Newkirk."

Hogan crossed his arms and struggled to keep his face impassive. "What is it that you think happened?"

"That Hoffman raped him, sir," Kinch stated quietly, although there was an edge to his voice that Hogan had never heard before.

Hogan felt a knot form in his gut. He looked at Cooper and asked him rather brusquely, "Is that what you told them, Private?"

Cooper stared fearfully up at Hogan. "I…" He swallowed hard, "Yes, sir, I did," he managed to say, and then his eyes welled up with tears. "I… I'm sorry; I didn't want to be causin' all this trouble…" He buried his face in his hands and began to sob. LeBeau reached up and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.

Hogan instantly regretted snapping at him. "It's all right, Cooper," he replied softly, "You haven't caused any trouble. In fact, you may have helped more than you realize." _Now that the other guys know, maybe they can help Newkirk get past this, _he thought to himself; then his eyes grew wide as another thought struck him. He turned back to Kinch and asked, "Does Newkirk know that you know?"

"Yes, sir," Kinch answered, "He was in the other tunnel, and must have heard us talking. After Cooper told us, he came in here and admitted to us what Hoffman did to him; then took off for the emergency exit."

_Dammit! _"All right, I'll go after him," Hogan said, "I want you fellas to sit tight, and if Newkirk comes back, find a way to keep him here, even if you have to lock him in my quarters!"

"Colonel, don't you want us to help look for him?" Carter asked.

"No, I don't want to risk too many of us out there roaming the woods when that ammo dump blows."

"But, how will you find him, Colonel? He could be anywhere!" LeBeau exclaimed

An image of the look in Newkirk's eyes when they'd watched the train explode a week ago flashed through Hogan's mind, and a sudden feeling of dread dropped into his stomach. "I think I know where he went." He leaned in towards Kinch, and said in a low voice, "See what you can do for Cooper." Then he headed down the tunnel, and out the emergency exit.

When he'd gone, Kinch looked first at Carter; then at LeBeau. "No one else needs to know about this," he stated, as if it were an order.

The two men nodded. Then Carter asked, "Why do you suppose Newkirk was so mad when he found out we knew?"

LeBeau frowned at him. "Carter, if something like this happened to you, would you want everyone else to know?"

"No, I guess not," Carter admitted.

Cooper, who had stopped crying, blurted out, "I wish I'd kept me big mouth shut!"

LeBeau turned toward the private. "No, I'm glad you told us, Cooper," he replied, attempting to reassure him, "And you shouldn't feel ashamed; it wasn't your fault – what that major did to you. _He's_ the one who's sick!"

"Then why do I ruddy feel so…so…" he hung his head and stared at a spot on the floor directly in front of his feet.

"Because that's how Hoffman wants you to feel," Kinch answered, "He _is_ sick, just like Louis said. But then, so is the Gestapo."

"He's right, you know," LeBeau said, "The Gestapo is filled with men whose job it is to hurt people. What he did to you is no different from some of the other tortures they put men through."

"You… You really think so?" Cooper asked in a small voice, his eyes locked on LeBeau's, desperately searching them for reassurance that this wasn't somehow his fault, and that he wasn't some sort of deviant for letting Hoffman rape him. Not that he had a choice!

"Oui, I do," LeBeau answered, and then smiled at him. "There is nothing wrong with you, mon ami, you just have to believe that."

Cooper let a small smile appear on his face. "Thanks, LeBeau, I… I needed to 'ear that."

Kinch smiled, too; then a thought hit him. "Does Sergeant Monroe know about this?" he asked Cooper.

Cooper looked at Kinch, his eyes widening. "No, he doesn't, and I'd like to keep it that way, if it's all the same to you."

Kinch nodded. "That's fine, we won't tell him." He looked over at Carter. "Andrew, why don't you go check on Monroe? See if he's found some clothes that fit him."

"Sure, Kinch," Carter replied, and then headed down the tunnel leading to the sewing room.

Once he'd gone, LeBeau looked at Kinch with a worried expression. "I hope the Colonel finds Newkirk," he said.

Kinch looked back, mirroring his concern. "Me, too," he replied.

* * * * * * * *

Newkirk jogged as fast as he dared through the woods; trying not to trip over the forest debris, breaking into a run whenever he hit a clearing. His thoughts were strangely quiet; his mind and body driven by a single purpose; to reach his destination in time. He passed through an area thick with trees; then emerged onto a field that stretched to a gentle hill beyond. He reached the top of the hill and looked out across the land in front of him. There, in the distance, was the ammunition dump, right where Hogan had said it would be when he gave Kinch directions. And circling that dump were the explosives that the guys had set earlier; the ones scheduled to go off in – he glanced at his watch – twenty minutes. More than enough time.

* * * * * * * *

After Hogan exited the hollowed-out tree stump, he took off through the forest, also moving as quickly as he could, and headed straight for the ammo dump. He couldn't believe it had come to this; didn't want to believe that Newkirk would go through with what he was sure the Englishman was thinking of doing. He knew how despondent Newkirk had become since Hoffman's visit, how close to the edge he'd been getting, and he never should have let it get this far. He should have done something; forced Newkirk to talk to him, found a way to help him. But no, he'd just kept avoiding the situation, not wanting to push; afraid it would cause the corporal to withdraw even more. And now the men had found out what happened to him – the one thing that Newkirk had been dreading the most – and it had pushed him over the edge. Somehow, he had to reach him; he had to set things right. His footsteps fell faster as he picked up his pace; determined to reach Newkirk in time.

* * * * * * * *

Newkirk stood at the top of the hill, looking down at the ammo dump, knowing he had only a short distance left to cover, and yet; he hesitated. His thoughts began to swirl in his head once again, his gut twisting with the strong emotions that were bombarding him from the inside. Did he really want to go through with this? Was this really the only solution? Was he so sure about how the others would treat him, now that they knew, that he wasn't willing to even allow the possibility that they wouldn't treat him differently? But then, he remembered the shocked expressions on their faces when he'd confirmed what Hoffman did to him, and he knew – he knew! – that they would never be able to look at him the same way they used to. And that's what he couldn't live with, that's what was causing him the greatest pain; how could he bear the anguish of being looked on as some kind of freak?

He shut his eyes tight for a moment; willing the image of their faces away. Then he opened them and looked out at the ammo dump again. As he stood there, staring, he felt a powerful force well up from inside; flooding through him, touching every nerve, every pore, every cell in his body. It was as if his entire being had become electrified; humming, vibrating with potential energy. Like a plane getting ready for take-off; revving the engines while the brakes are still on, holding it in place. It was pulling him, urging him, showing him a way out; a way to end the pain once and for all. It reached into his brain; clouding his thoughts, while amplifying his emotions tenfold. His eyes teared up, but he didn't notice. All he could feel was his total despair, his complete desolation, his utter disgrace. He was consumed by it. The only thing holding him back was the small part of him that wasn't ready to give up; what little self-preservation he had left. That; and what he was doing to his mates…and the colonel. He knew they would take it hard, and he hated to put them through it. But how could he face them anymore? How could he work side-by-side with them; when they knew what had happened? How could he stand their pity? No, this was better. No more shame, no more humiliation, no more pity. It was time to end it his way… With what little dignity he had left.

As if in a daze, he started walking down the hill, toward the ammo dump. He was about a quarter of the way there from where he'd been standing, when a shout from behind him reached his ears. His mind barely registered it; still intent on reaching its goal, but when he heard it again, he paused, and it suddenly dawned on him that someone had shouted his name. He whirled around, just in time to see Hogan crest the hill, approaching him at a dead run. His eyes widened, and he turned around and began running, himself; straight for the dump.

"Newkirk! Stop!" Hogan shouted again, forcing himself to run faster.

"No! Stay away!" Newkirk yelled back, now almost halfway there. He made it a few more feet when he felt Hogan slam into him, throwing them both to the ground. He landed on his side, Hogan on top of him, and before he could wrestle free, Hogan had pushed him onto his back, and was sitting on him, pinning his arms to the ground on either side of his head.

"No! Get off me! Get the bloody 'ell off me!" Newkirk yelled, struggling to free himself.

"I'm not gonna let you kill yourself!" Hogan yelled back while tightening his grip on Newkirk's wrists.

Newkirk fought harder against Hogan's hold on him. "No, let me go! Let me do this! You don't know what I'm goin' through!"

"I would if you'd talk to me!"

Newkirk renewed his effort to break free once more, and then, after a few more moments, he stopped. He lay there, breathing heavily, noticing Hogan was also catching his breath. Then he stared up at Hogan, letting his agony show through at last, and said, "Colonel, they know. Me mates; they all know…"

Hogan nodded. "So, they know. So what? Newkirk, do you honestly think the guys would think any less of you, because of what Hoffman did to you?"

"I don't want their pity!"

"And you're not going to get it. Don't you understand? They're not going to judge you; they want to help you! What you went through is no worse than a lot of the other monstrous things the Gestapo dreams up to do to men like us. Would you feel better if Hoffman had beaten you? Tortured you? Maimed you?"

"This is different, and you know it!"

Hogan sighed. "Maybe. But the other guys don't see it that way. And neither do I. Peter, what Hoffman did was horrible, but it doesn't change who you are, or how the guys see you… Or how _I_ see you, for that matter. I'm not gonna pity you, or coddle you, or feel sorry for you. And I promise you, they won't, either. But when you need to talk about it, we'll all be there for you. Just like _you_ would be, if this happened to any of us."

Newkirk turned his head and looked away for a few moments, mulling it over. Then he returned his gaze to Hogan, and said, "You promise?"

Hogan smiled wide. "I promise," he responded, and then added, "And I always keep my promises."

Newkirk smiled back. "That you do, gov'nor." Then his smile turned into a smirk, and he said, "I think you can let me up, now, if you don't mind, Colonel."

"Oh! Yeah, sure," Hogan replied, suddenly realizing he still had Newkirk pinned to the ground. He let go of his arms and rolled off him, then got to his feet and held out his hand to help Newkirk up.

Newkirk took the offered hand, and once they were both standing, he said softly, "Thanks, gov'nor… For savin' me life."

"You're welcome," Hogan answered, his own voice heavy with emotion. Then he glanced at his watch and said, "We better get going; we've only got five minutes before that ammo dump explodes."

"I'm right behind you, gov'nor," Newkirk replied, and the two men took off, headed back to Stalag thirteen, both of them filled with a new sense of hope.


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: Sorry it took so long for me to update; RL has kept me very busy this past week! Hopefully it won't take me this long to post the next chapter.

* * *

**Chapter 10**

Hogan and Newkirk made their way back to camp as quickly and quietly as possible, stopping only for a few moments when they heard the ammunition dump explode behind them in the distance. They picked their way through the forest debris more carefully after that; their ears attuned to listen for any sign of a German patrol. Fortunately, none happened upon them, and soon they reached the hollowed-out tree stump, climbing down to the safety of the tunnels below.

Before they got to the main tunnel area, where the rest of the men were certain to still be there, waiting for them, Hogan drew Newkirk aside. "You know, Cooper's been through the same thing you have," he said, keeping his voice low, "Maybe you two should talk; I think it would do you both some good."

Newkirk looked doubtful. "Colonel, I don't know… Besides, I don't feel much like talkin' about it right now."

Hogan studied him for a moment, and even with the dim lighting in the tunnel, could see how exhausted the Englishman was. After everything they'd been through that evening, he could hardly blame him. "All right, Newkirk, why don't you head up to the barracks and get some sleep? We can discuss this tomorrow."

"Thank you, sir," Newkirk replied, relieved.

The two men continued down the tunnel until they reached the main area underneath the barracks. Sure enough, Kinch, Carter, and LeBeau were there; concerned looks on all their faces.

"Hey, Colonel, you're back!" Carter was the first to spot them, "And you found Newkirk!"

"Yes, Carter, we're back," Hogan replied, restating the obvious; then he nodded at Newkirk, who, without a word, walked over to the ladder and climbed up to the barracks. After he'd gone, Hogan glanced around the room and asked, "Where's Cooper and Monroe?"

"We set 'em up in that back room, you know, where we've got those extra cots, so they could get some sleep," Carter said.

"Oui, Colonel, they were looking very tired, and we didn't know when you would return…"

"That's fine, LeBeau," Hogan said, "As a matter of fact, I think we should all go up top and get some shut-eye. We've only got about," he glanced at his watch, "Four more hours until roll call."

"Oh, Colonel?" Kinch piped up, "I contacted London, and they'll be able to send a sub to pick up Monroe and Cooper tomorrow night."

"Okay, thanks, Kinch," Hogan replied, raising his hand to stifle a yawn. "Guess I'm a little tired, myself." Then he glanced back and forth at each of the three men in front of him, and suddenly put on his command face. "Oh, and one more thing… Now that you know what happened to Newkirk, I want you to keep this between us. No one else needs to know; is that understood?"

"Yes, sir," both Kinch and Carter responded, while LeBeau let out a resounding, "Oui, Colonel."

"Colonel?" Carter asked, looking concerned, "Is Newkirk going to be okay?"

Hogan let out a sigh. "Yeah, I think he will. It's going to take time for him to get past this, but he'll be all right. I know all of you are willing to help him…" he paused as the men nodded, "And so am I. For now; though, the best thing you can do is just treat him the way you always have; don't make a big fuss over this, and he'll talk to you when he's ready."

"Why would we treat him differently, Colonel?" LeBeau asked. "I mean, it's not like he had any choice in the matter."

"Yeah, Colonel," Carter said, "At least he didn't get beaten really bad, or strung up by his thumbs, or had a few bones broken, or was stabbed, or shot, or…"

Hogan held up his hand. "I get it, Carter," he cut in, "And I agree with you. What Hoffman did was…was…"

"Just plain sick," Kinch interrupted loudly; then quickly added, "Sir."

Hogan nodded. "I couldn't have said it any better, myself." He glanced once more at each of them, and stated, "All right, let's go get some sleep." He shooed the men up to the barracks and followed behind, making a beeline for his quarters once he stepped off the ladder. He glanced in Newkirk's direction as he passed his bunk, and was relieved to see him sleeping. After he entered his quarters and changed into his pajamas, he hopped up onto his bunk and stretched out. Unfortunately, he didn't fall asleep as quickly as he had hoped.

* * * * * * * *

Morning came much too early. The five men who'd been up half the night stumbled out for roll call, bleary-eyed, trying to remember what it felt like to get a decent night's sleep. As they stood outside, waiting interminably for the Kommandant to appear, the cool, crisp pre-dawn air managed to bring them fully awake. At last Colonel Klink showed up, and after they were dismissed, they shuffled back inside, grabbed their coffee cups, and held them out to LeBeau, who had picked up the coffee pot and was filling their cups one at a time.

Once that was taken care of, the men sat down at the table – except for LeBeau, who began making breakfast – and sipped at their coffee while Hogan went over the plan of the day.

"Newkirk, after breakfast I want you to go down to the tunnel, and finish getting those guys outfitted," Hogan began, "They're also going to need papers. Carter," he turned to the sergeant, "You can take the pictures that'll go on their fake IDs. And Kinch," he looked at his radioman, "Get in touch with London; let them know our mission last night was successful. Oh, and I also want you to brush up on your voice impersonation of Burkhalter; I may be needing it soon."

Kinch raised an eyebrow. "Burkhalter, Colonel?"

Hogan nodded. "Yeah. I've got an idea for getting rid of Hoffman; I'll explain tonight – after we get Monroe and Cooper out of here."

* * * * * * * *

When they were finished with their morning meal, Newkirk, Kinch and Carter went below to carry out their assignments. LeBeau followed soon after; bringing coffee and something to eat for the two men who would be leaving that night. Newkirk started on the fake IDs, while Carter took each man's picture. Once that was done, Monroe was sent back to the room where the civilian clothes were, to change into the clothes that had been picked out for him. Hogan showed up briefly to check on their progress, and also to remind Newkirk of what he'd mentioned to him the previous night. Newkirk responded with his customary non-committal shrug, and went down the tunnel to finish getting Sergeant Monroe ready.

"So, what was that all about last night?" Monroe asked Newkirk as the corporal dug through a pile of shoes, trying to find some that would fit the sergeant.

"What do you mean?" Newkirk asked, picking up a pair of dark brown loafers.

"The way you bolted out of here after I told you about Cooper," Monroe said, "You looked like you'd seen a ghost."

"Oh, that," Newkirk replied nonchalantly, "It was nothin', really… Just somethin' I forgot to tell the Colonel; I remembered it when you mentioned the Gestapo."

"Must have been pretty important," Monroe remarked; his curiosity piqued.

Newkirk nodded. 'Yes, it was."

Monroe waited for a few moments, and when he realized Newkirk wasn't going to say any more about it, he smiled. "Okay, I know when to quit," he chuckled. "I take it it's none of my business."

Newkirk smiled back. "You got it, mate," he replied as he handed him the loafers to try on.

"Well, whatever it is, I hope it's not something that's going to be a problem for you guys," Monroe said.

"No, it won't be," Newkirk answered, a pensive look flashing briefly across his eyes, "Not anymore."

Monroe tried on the shoes, and they fit perfectly. He thanked Newkirk, and picked up the jacket that the corporal had given him the night before; pulling it on over the plain tan shirt and brown pants that Carter had found for him later that night, after Newkirk had taken off. Then he left to join the men in the main tunnel area, promising to send Cooper back to get outfitted.

Newkirk took a deep breath, and then started rummaging through the pile of civilian clothes, picking out some shirts and pants that appeared to be Cooper's size. He had just finished finding a few items that might work, when the private showed up, hesitating just outside the room.

"They told me to come see you about me clothes," Cooper said quietly.

"Yeah," Newkirk answered, waving him in, "I've a few things 'ere that should fit you. Try these on," he said, thrusting a shirt and pair of pants at the private.

Cooper removed his uniform shirt, and began to put on the civilian one that Newkirk had handed him. As he changed, he studied the corporal, and while he was buttoning the shirt, he finally got up the courage to speak. "I 'eard what you said last night," he began, "About what Hoffman did to you."

Newkirk looked at him, trying to keep his expression impassive. "I 'eard you went through the same thing," he replied.

Cooper slowly nodded. Then he stepped over to the upended crate near the wall, and sat down heavily on it. He buried his face in his hands for a few moments; then looked pleadingly up at Newkirk. "Why? Why would he…why would _anyone_…do that?"

Newkirk watched him, and after a brief struggle with his own emotions, walked up and pulled another crate over in front of Cooper and sat down, facing him. "Because he's a ruddy sick bastard, that's why," he said softly, looking into the private's eyes, "He's just tryin' to make you feel like there's somethin' wrong with you, when it's 'im, what's crackers." As he spoke, he began to realize that what he was saying to Cooper applied to him, as well. Maybe the colonel was right; maybe what happened to him didn't make him a freak, to be pitied and scorned. He had to admit; his biggest fear hadn't come true, after all; had it? The other guys weren't treating him any differently. Maybe the shame he felt wasn't justified, maybe none of this was his fault… And maybe it was time to stop feeling sorry for himself.

Newkirk sat with Cooper for a while, mostly letting the younger Englishman talk, knowing how desperate the private was for someone to listen to him; someone who understood what he was going through. Newkirk didn't go into much detail about his own encounter with Hoffman; he wasn't sure if or when he'd ever be ready to talk about that. But he listened, and he sympathized, and when the conversation ended, they were both feeling a little better.

* * * * * * * *

That night, after Monroe and Cooper left, Hogan gathered his men into his quarters, and once everyone had made themselves comfortable, he began to go over his plan for taking care of Major Hoffman. He was acutely aware that what he was about to suggest would go over like a lead balloon, and he braced himself for the men's reactions.

"Okay, first off, we'll need to find someone who Hoffman would find, uh, interesting, that would be willing to be questioned by him in the cooler…"

Newkirk was the first to respond. "Blimey, are you sayin' what I think you're sayin', Colonel?" he asked incredulously. "You want to use some poor sod 'ere as bait, is that it?"

Hogan let out a sigh. "Yes, that's what I'm suggesting… But he would only have to be alone with Hoffman for a few minutes."

"And just who did you 'ave in mind, Colonel?" Newkirk said, his eyes narrowing.

"Relax, Newkirk, I wouldn't dream of asking you," Hogan reassured him, "There are plenty of British prisoners here in camp."

"You can't be serious!" Newkirk exclaimed, "You know what Hoffman's goin' to do…"

"He's not gonna get the chance," Hogan interjected loudly, his patience wearing thin, "He'll be stopped before he can do anything."

Newkirk eyed Hogan for a moment; then asked, "Can you guarantee that, Colonel?"

Hogan stared resolutely into the Englishman's eyes. "Yes, Newkirk, I guarantee it."

Newkirk stared back for another moment. "All right," he replied at last, "I'll do it."

LeBeau leaped up from the chair he was sitting on. "No, mon ami, you can't!" he exclaimed, "You can't let that animal get his hands on you again!"

"You 'eard the Colonel; that's not goin' to 'appen," Newkirk stated.

"Yeah, but, Newkirk," Carter said, "You're already so scared of him, why would you want to…"

"Carter!" Hogan snapped, frowning at him.

Newkirk held up his hand. "No sir, it's all right. Carter's right, I am bloody scared of 'im. But I'm not goin' to let some other poor bloke 'ave to put up with that loony for even a few minutes; not when I already know what he's about. No one else 'ere needs to go through that."

Hogan studied him for a few moments. "Are you sure, Newkirk?"

Newkirk nodded. "Yes, sir, I'm sure."

"Okay," Hogan said; then he smiled at him. "You know, I was hoping you'd volunteer; it's going to make things much easier for this plan to work."

"So, what did you have in mind, Colonel?" Kinch asked.

Hogan glanced at his men. "Well, it's going to involve Hochstetter…"

* * * * * * * *

The next day started out cloudy, the wind cold and blustery, and the men shivered and stamped their feet as they waited for the Kommandant to dismiss them from roll call. When they were finally released, Kinch headed for the tunnel to make a phone call. He sat down at the switchboard and dialed the number; then waited patiently for the party at the other end to answer.

_"Ja, this is Major Hochstetter."_

"Major Hochstetter, this is General Burkhalter speaking."

"_General Burkhalter, you're calling very early. What can I do for you?"_

"I was under the impression that you were the Gestapo officer in charge of what goes on at Stalag 13."

"_Yes, General, you know that I am."_

"Then, why did Major Hoffman visit the camp last week, to talk to Colonel Hogan?"

"_What? Major Hoffman was there? Why was I not told about this!"_

"Oh, didn't you know, Major? That's strange. Tell me, how is it that the Gestapo doesn't know what is going inside their own organization?"

"_Believe me, General, I will get to the bottom of this!"_

"I hope so, Major, or I may just have to put in a recommendation to reassign someone else to be in charge of Stalag 13…and Colonel Hogan."

Kinch hung up the phone, smiling to himself. He knew that Hochstetter would be there within the hour.

* * * * * * * *

Kinch was right; Hochstetter showed up just over a half- hour later. As his car came to a stop, he practically jumped out of it and stomped up to Klink's office, his fury visible even from the barracks. Hogan and his men crowded into the colonel's quarters, eager to hear the conversation that was about to take place.

"_Ah, Major Hochstetter, what brings you here on such a cold, windy morning?"_

"_Shut up, Klink!"_

"_Yes Major; shutting up."_

"_Klink, why was I not informed that Major Hoffman visited your camp last week?"_

"_You weren't? Well, I can assure you, Major, that, had I known, I would have certainly called your office and…"_

"_I thought you would have learned your lesson the first time! You should have informed me immediately that Major Hoffman was here!"_

"_But, I thought you already knew!"_

"_Bah! You're covering for him for some reason, aren't you?"_

"_No, of course not, Major!"_

Hogan glanced at his men. "Gentlemen, I think it's time for me to go in." He walked out of his quarters, heading for Klink's office.

"Why don't I believe you, Klink?" Hochstetter eyed him suspiciously.

"Major, I can assure you, I…" Klink was interrupted by the door opening.

"Colonel, I was wondering if… Oh, I didn't know you had company," Hogan said as he sauntered into the room. "Major Hochstetter, always a pleasure," he stated, smiling at him.

Hochstetter returned his smile with a glare. "Colonel Hogan, I hear that Major Hoffman was here last week. Tell me, what did he want to talk to you about?"

"Him? Oh, nothing, really. He just wanted to see how I was doing; was I getting enough sleep, enough to eat, could I use some time away from camp…you know, the usual."

"Hogan, I'm warning you, you better tell me what I want to know, or I'll take you in for questioning, myself."

"I thought I _was_ telling you what you wanted to know," Hogan answered glibly.

"I am going to get to the bottom of this, if it's the last thing I do!" Hochstetter shouted.

"In that case, Major, maybe you should start with Hoffman," Hogan replied.

"Bah!" Hochstetter exclaimed as his face turned red with anger; then he turned and stormed out of the office.

"Good riddance!" Klink uttered under his breath.

"If you don't mind, Kommandant, I have something I need to take care of," Hogan said while inching towards the door.

"Yes, yes, you're dismissed," Klink replied, completely forgetting to ask Hogan why he'd come to his office in the first place.

Hogan left Klink's office and sprinted out to Hochstetter's car, intent on catching the Major before he left. He got there just as Hochstetter was about to climb into the back seat, and approached him carefully. "Oh, Major," Hogan called out, "Before you leave, do you have a few minutes?"

Hochstetter turned to look at him and scowled. "What do you want, Hogan?"

Hogan walked up and said quietly, "I take it you don't like Major Hoffman very much, do you?"

Hochstetter's scowl deepened. "Whether I do or not doesn't concern you," he huffed.

Hogan's voice dropped to a conspiratorial level. "What if I told you there was a way to get rid of him?" he replied, just above a whisper.

Hochstetter eyed him suspiciously. "What do you mean, Hogan?" he asked, just as quietly.

Hogan lightly grabbed Hochstetter's arm and started leading him away from the car. "Come with me, Major; let's talk."


	11. Chapter 11

Warning: this chapter contains a semi-graphic scene of a sexual nature.

* * *

**Chapter 11**

Carter was at the barracks door, which he had opened just a crack, and he was peeking out the small opening; watching Hogan and Hochstetter conversing on the other side of the compound. The two men had been talking for several minutes, but Carter couldn't tell whether it was going well or not. Hochstetter was waving his arms around quite a bit, and from what the sergeant could see, the major had a scowl on his face. Of course, considering it was Hochstetter, that didn't mean anything. At last the conversation ended, and Hogan began to walk toward the barracks, while Hochstetter headed for his car. Carter turned his head and announced to the room at large, "The colonel's coming!"

Kinch, Newkirk, and LeBeau looked up from where they were sitting at the table, all three men's expressions an identical mix of anxiety and anticipation, all three of them thinking the same thing; had it worked? Had Hochstetter agreed to the plan? Were they going to be rid of Hoffman once and for all?

As Hogan entered the barracks, he glanced at the worried faces looking up at him from the table, and smiled. "Hochstetter's going to do it," he announced.

'That's great, Colonel!" Kinch replied, a smile appearing on his own face.

"Oui, Colonel," LeBeau added, "Although, I am surprised he agreed to it so easily."

"Trust me, LeBeau," Hogan said, "It wasn't easy! But he wants to get rid of Hoffman as much as we do."

"Wow, Colonel, we're actually going to be working _with_ Major Hochstetter…" Carter shook his head in amazement, "Boy, I never thought I'd see that happen!"

Hogan grinned at him. "Me, neither, Carter," he said.

"So, when does he want to do this, sir?" Kinch asked.

"This afternoon," Hogan answered. "Hochstetter's gonna make the call as soon as he gets back to his office." He glanced at Newkirk, and immediately noticed the grim expression on his face. He walked over and sat down at the table across from the Englishman, and looked him in the eyes. "You can still change your mind, if you want to," he said softly, "I can get someone else to do it."

Newkirk shook his head. "No, Colonel, I'll do it." He replied determinedly. Then a smirk appeared on his face as he added, "Besides, I want to be there to see the look on that ruddy major's face when this is all over."

Hogan smiled. "Too bad I can't sell tickets."

"I'd buy one!" Carter piped up.

That got them all chuckling.

* * * * * * * *

It was mid-morning, and Major Hoffman was seated at his desk, trying to whittle down the ever present mountain of paperwork in front of him which seemed to be growing bigger every day, when his phone rang. He picked it up and stated absently, "This is Major Hoffman."

"_Major Hoffman, this is Major Hochstetter."_

Hoffman inwardly cringed. He could already hear the anger in Hochstetter's voice, and knew this wasn't going to go well. "Ah, Major Hochstetter, what can I do for you?" he replied as pleasantly as possible.

"_I received a call from General Burkhalter this morning, asking me why you visited Stalag thirteen last week. When I told him I was not aware that you had, he became very angry."_

"General Burkhalter, Major?" _How did he find out?_ Hoffman thought to himself,_ unless that idiot Kommandant Klink told him._

"_Yes, Major, General Burkhalter! He knows that I am in charge of all suspicious activity that goes on in that camp!"_

Hoffman had to pull the phone about four inches away from his ear during Hochstetter's outburst. "Yes, Major, I know you are in charge of the camp…"

"_Then, what were you doing there?"_

Hoffman cleared his throat. "Well, Major, I was just checking up on the prisoners that I caught trying to escape a few weeks ago…"

"_Checking up on the prisoners? That's not your job, and you know it! This is not the first time you have overstepped your authority, Major!"_

"Major Hochstetter, I can assure you, I had no intention of overstepping my authority. I know you are in charge of what goes on at Stalag thirteen…"

"_Yes I am, Major!"_

This time, Hoffman had to hold the phone six inches away. When he put it back to his ear, Hochstetter was speaking a little quieter.

"_But for how long, remains to be seen. General Burkhalter was so angry that I couldn't prevent one of my own men from going behind my back; that he decided to let you question Colonel Hogan again, as well as the other prisoner that was with him when they tried to escape… Corporal Newkirk, I believe."_

For a brief moment, Hoffman was too stunned to answer. Finally he said, "General Burkhalter wants _me_ to question them?"

"_Ja. And if you can get any useful information out of them, he may decide to request that you be put in charge of all investigations of the camp."_

Hoffman could hear the bitterness in Hochstetter's voice, and he inwardly jumped with glee. He'd always hated that man; not just because the major was loud and obnoxious, but also because he secretly envied him. He'd always wanted to have access to the prisoners in a POW camp; specifically, the British ones…

"Major Hochstetter, this is indeed a surprise," Hoffman responded, hoping his elation at this sudden turn of events wasn't coming through in his voice.

"_It was a surprise to me, too, Major. You are to visit Stalag thirteen this afternoon to begin your interrogation. The prisoners will be in the cooler, waiting for you."_

"I understand, Major, and I will be there."

"_You had better be!"_

Hoffman heard a click, and the other end of the line went dead. As he hung up the phone, he leaned back in his chair and just sat there for a while, contemplating his new-found luck. Not only was he in a position to take over Hochstetter's job, but he was going to get to spend some more time with Corporal Newkirk. He closed his eyes and smiled at the memory of his last encounter with the Englishman. Yes, Newkirk was definitely one of his favorites; that handsome face, how he smelled, how he tasted, the way the corporal's lean, muscular body felt underneath his hands, that look of pure terror in those big green eyes…

A knock at the door jolted him out of his reverie. His eyes snapped open and he sat up straight in his chair. "Come in," he called out loudly.

The door opened, and one of his guards entered. "Major, you asked me to inform you when those two prisoners from cell 2A were ready for questioning."

"Oh, yes, well, it looks like I won't have time to question them today, after all. I have an appointment this afternoon, and before that, I have some things to take care of." Hoffman stood up quickly and went to fetch his cap from the coat rack. "I'll be gone for the rest of the day," he said as he headed out the door, "You can put those men back in their cell, Sergeant."

* * * * * * * *

Hogan and his men were seated around the common room table, passing the time by talking about nothing in particular, in an obvious effort to keep their minds off what was planned for that afternoon, when Schultz entered the barracks, looking concerned.

"Colonel Hogan, you're not going to believe what the Kommandant just told me! He said that Major Hochstetter called, and he told the Kommandant to…"

"To put me and Newkirk in the cooler, right, Schultz?" Hogan interrupted, finishing the portly guard's sentence.

Schultz's eyes grew wide. "Ja! How did you know?" he asked; then held up his hand. "Wait; don't tell me, I don't want to know!"

Hogan grinned at him. "You're right, Schultz, you don't want to know."

As Schultz led the two men across the compound, Hogan leaned towards Newkirk and whispered, "It's show time."

"Let's hope this show doesn't 'ave a surprise endin'," Newkirk whispered back.

* * * * * * * *

Major Hoffman couldn't remember the last time he'd felt this excited. After he drove through the main gate at Stalag thirteen, he pulled up in front of Klink's office and stopped; exiting the car quickly. He looked towards the front porch, and noticed Sergeant Schultz already hurrying up to greet him.

"Major Hoffman, Kommandant Klink is expecting you in his office; Major Hochstetter told him you would be coming."

"That won't be necessary, Sergeant," Hoffman told Schultz, "I would like to see the prisoners in the cooler right now."

Schultz looked confused. "But, Colonel Klink, he wanted you to…"

Hoffman held up his hand. "I have orders from General Burkhalter to question these prisoners. I'm sure Colonel Klink will understand that I want to get started right away."

"Jawohl, Herr Major," Schultz replied, and led him to the cooler.

When they got inside, it took a moment for Hoffman's eyes to adjust to the dim lighting. He followed the sergeant down a flight of stairs, and along a short hallway until they reached a row of cells lined against the back wall. They were constructed of metal bars that were spaced close together; just like a typical jail. There was a figure pacing in the cell directly in front of him, and he instantly recognized that it was Newkirk. He glanced over to the cell next to him, and saw someone lying on the cot inside; covered with a blanket. He could tell it was Hogan; his cap was visible above the covers. He inwardly smiled; it looked like he was going to have some private time with the Englishman.

Hoffman pointed to the cell containing Newkirk and looked at Schultz. "Open it," he ordered.

Schultz produced a set of keys, and proceeded to unlock the cell door. Hoffman opened it and slipped inside. He pulled the door closed and glanced briefly at Schultz.

You can lock the door, Sergeant, and then you can leave us."

"Jawohl, Herr Major," Schultz automatically responded. Then he locked the cell door, turned around, and left the cooler the way they'd come.

Satisfied, Hoffman turned to look at Newkirk, who had stopped pacing, and was standing near the back wall, staring at him with contempt.

Hoffman smiled at him. "Corporal Newkirk, we meet again," he said, stepping closer.

"You stay away from me!" Newkirk hissed, backing up against the wall.

Hoffman's smile widened. "Why Corporal, you do have some spunk in you, after all. I like that."

Newkirk glared at him.

"But it won't do you any good, you know. Your Colonel can't help you." Hoffman glanced at the neighboring cell. "He appears to be sound asleep, anyway," he said, and turned his gaze back to Newkirk, his eyes narrowing seductively. "It looks like I've got you all to myself."

"You're ruddy sick!" Newkirk spat out.

Hoffman stepped up swiftly in front of Newkirk, stopping a mere foot in front of him. "Be careful what you say, Corporal; I may decide to take out your insubordination on your Colonel, there." His eyes flicked towards the sleeping figure on the cot in the next cell. He looked back at Newkirk and smiled. "I'm sure you remember what I told you to say, don't you?"

Newkirk swallowed hard, and then managed to utter, "Yes, sir."

"Very good!" Hoffman exclaimed. Then his expression grew serious. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a pair of handcuffs. "Turn around," he ordered.

Newkirk's eyes grew wide. "What?" he exclaimed.

"You heard me, turn around… Now!" Hoffman snapped.

Newkirk reluctantly turned around and faced the wall. Hoffman grabbed his arms and yanked them behind the Englishman; then proceeded to slap the cuffs on his wrists. Then he stepped closer, pushing Newkirk up against the wall with his body, effectively pinning the corporal between himself and the wall. He slid his arms around Newkirk, and brought his face in close; his mouth less than an inch from Newkirk's ear.

"I _have_ missed you, you know," he whispered, burying his face in the crook of Newkirk's neck.

Newkirk could feel Hoffman's tongue gliding along his neck, and he shuddered. _Oh, Please, stop 'im soon, _he thought to himself, _I don't know 'ow much more of this I can ruddy take!_

Hoffman nuzzled Newkirk's neck for a few more moments; then he stepped back and grabbed the Englishman's arm, turning the corporal around to face him. Once again he moved in close, forcing Newkirk to back up until he was against the wall. Hoffman reached up and, grabbing Newkirk's face firmly, leaned in to kiss him.

_No, no, no! _Newkirk's mind screamed as he felt that awful mouth make contact with his own. _Please, get 'im off me!_

The body in the next cell stirred, which caught their attention. Hoffman broke away from Newkirk's mouth and smiled lustily at him. "It appears we will have an audience after all," he said, briefly stroking Newkirk's cheek before dropping his hand and taking a few steps back. "Perhaps we should give your colonel something interesting to watch." He reached up and grabbed Newkirk's arm. "Get on your knees," he ordered quietly.

Newkirk's eyes widened with fear. "What?" he replied shakily, knowing full well what Hoffman had in mind.

"You heard me, Corporal; on your knees!" Hoffman yanked Newkirk forward, causing the Englishman to lose his balance. As Newkirk went down, Hoffman grabbed his other arm and attempted to lower him slowly in an effort to lessen the impact. Still, Newkirk's knees landed hard on the cement floor, and he knew he was going to have bruises on both of them.

Hoffman let go of Newkirk's arms; then reached down and, cupping the corporal's chin in his hand, gently tilted his face up. "Don't even think of trying to hurt me," he threatened, "Or I won't hesitate to kill Colonel Hogan. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir," Newkirk croaked out.

Hoffman smiled at him for a moment; then he let go of Newkirk's chin and began to unfasten his trousers. As he did so, he gazed down at Newkirk, noting the look of fear and hopelessness in the Englishman's eyes, and he felt his excitement growing. When he'd finished unbuttoning his pants, he slid them down, watching Newkirk pale at the sight in front of him. Hoffman placed his hand behind Newkirk's head and uttered softly, "Now, open your mouth…"

Suddenly the figure in the cell next to them threw off the blanket and leaped to his feet. Before Hoffman or Newkirk could turn their heads to look, there was a blinding flash of light. Both men blinked a few times, trying to readjust their eyes to the darkness. When they could see again, they looked into the neighboring cell, and there stood Major Hochstetter, with a camera in one hand, and a gun in the other; and he was pointing the weapon at Hoffman.

"So, it's true!" Hochstetter yelled, "You _are_ a homosexual!"

Hoffman couldn't have looked more shocked. "Major Hochstetter! What… What are you doing here?" he stammered.

"I'm here to arrest you, _Major_. You know how the Fuhrer feels about homosexuals; and so do I. And pull up your pants!"

Hoffman's jaw dropped as he remembered he was half-naked. He reached down and quickly pulled his trousers up, and as he was fastening them, asked haltingly, "But, how did you…how could you have... How did you find out?"

"Colonel Hogan told me about your 'interrogation' techniques. Frankly, I didn't know whether to believe him or not, but now I see he was telling the truth." Hochstetter, still keeping his eyes on Hoffman, turned his head slightly toward the door of his cell and yelled loudly, "Guards!"

They immediately heard footsteps pounding down the stairs, and Hogan came into view, flanked by two Gestapo guards. The guards had their guns drawn, and aimed them at Hoffman while taking up positions in front of the cell that Hoffman was occupying.

Hogan planted himself in front of the door to the cell, and looked in at Newkirk, who had sat back on his heels to take the pressure off his sore knees. "Newkirk, are you okay?" he called out, worry evident in his voice.

"I'm all right, Colonel," Newkirk replied, "Just wish Major Hochstetter 'ere 'ad jumped up a mite sooner." He turned his head to look at the major in the next cell.

"I'm…sorry about that, Corporal Newkirk," Hochstetter apologized, meeting his gaze, "I had to catch Major Hoffman in the act…" His voice trailed off and he glanced away, looking very uncomfortable.

It was Newkirk's turn to look shocked. _Blimey! I think he means it! _

"How about letting Newkirk out of there, Major?" Hogan asked Hochstetter.

"Oh, yes, Colonel Hogan, of course." Hochstetter opened the unlocked door to the cell he was in, and walked over to Hogan. Then he holstered his gun, reached into his pocket and pulled out a key. "I brought a spare," he stated, and dropped it into Hogan's outstretched hand.

Hogan quickly unlocked the door, and rushed inside. He circled around Hoffman and headed straight for Newkirk; then grabbed the Englishman's arms and helped him to his feet.

Newkirk rose slowly, his knees protesting all the way. Then, when he'd gained his balance, he asked Hogan, "Think you could get these ruddy cuffs off me, gov'nor?"

Hogan turned around and glared at Hoffman, who immediately handed over the key to the handcuffs. "I underestimated you, Colonel," he said as he watched him unlock the cuffs from Newkirk's wrists, "I never thought you would be willing to sell out one of your men."

Hogan finished removing the handcuffs, and looked up at Hoffman. "I didn't sell out one of my men," he retorted, "I sold _you_ out."

"All right, time to go, Major," Hochstetter announced, walking into the cell, and staring expectantly at Hoffman.

Hoffman looked at Hochstetter, and as the realization of what was going to happen to him finally sank in, he blanched. "I'm…I'm going to be killed…aren't I?"

"Yes, you are," Hochstetter answered; then he signaled to one of the guards, who entered the cell and, after grabbing Hoffman's arm, began to lead him away.

Before Hochstetter could leave, Hogan caught his attention. "Major," he said, "I still think you should have let me take the picture."

Hochstetter shook his head. "I had to see it with my own eyes, Hogan. With me as an eye witness, and this photograph," he briefly held up the camera, "My superiors will have all the proof they need to take care of Hoffman." Then he looked at Newkirk one last time, and, with real sincerity in his voice, said, "I _am_ sorry for what you went through, Corporal. You have my sympathy." With that, he turned and followed Hoffman and the guards out of the cooler.

Both Hogan and Newkirk stared after the major for a moment, their mouths hanging open. Then Hogan looked at Newkirk and said in amazement, "Well, what do you know about that? Hochstetter has a conscience, after all."

A smirk formed on Newkirk's face. "Never thought I'd live to see the day, go'vnor!" He took a step toward the door and winced.

"You sure you're all right?" Hogan asked, looking at him with concern.

"Yes, sir, it's just me ruddy knees; they're a bit sore, is all."

"Newkirk…" Hogan paused, not sure what he wanted to say.

"Yes, sir?"

"I'm sorry you had to go through that, too." Hogan finally replied, "It must have been pretty horrible…"

"It could 'ave been a lot worse, Colonel. If Hochstetter 'adn't been here…" Newkirk stopped and his eyes widened. "Say, I just realized somethin'; I'm in that bleedin' picture, too!"

"Don't worry," Hogan replied reassuringly, "Hochstetter said he'd find a way to cover or blur out your face in the picture; just enough so no one can identify you. And after Hoffman's been taken care of, he'll destroy the picture and the negative."

"Really? Hochstetter told you that? And you believe 'im?"

Hogan nodded. "Yes, believe it or not, I do. He seemed pretty disgusted with what Hoffman's been doing behind all their backs. And the fact that he's a fellow Gestapo officer just made it worse. I think he wants to avoid any further embarrassment."

Newkirk thought about that for a moment. "Well, in any case, sir, I'm just glad to be rid of Hoffman. I'd say he's gettin' what he deserves!"

Hogan smiled. "I couldn't agree more."

"And Klink; is Hochstetter goin' to tell 'im what 'appened 'ere?" Newkirk asked; then added almost in a whisper, "And what 'appened to me?"

"No, Klink's not gonna know." Then Hogan raised his arm and shook his fist. "Klink! It's none of your business!" he shouted, attempting to mimic the Gestapo major.

Newkirk chuckled: then he smirked at Hogan and quipped, "Better keep your day job, sir."

Hogan laughed at that. "C'mon, Newkirk," he said when he'd recovered, "Let's get out of here."

As they began to make their way out of the cooler, they both fell silent for a few moments, and then Hogan said, "You know, my door's always open, if you want to talk."

"I know, gov'nor," Newkirk answered, "And I may just take you up on that, one of these days. But for now, I think I'd like to go back to the barracks, rest me achin' knees, and beat Carter at a few hands of gin."

Hogan smiled. "Fair enough." Then the two men walked out of the building and headed for the barracks, grateful that the plan worked, and content in the knowledge that they'd put one more bad guy out of commission…for good.

**THE END**


End file.
